Women picking out wedding dresses can be right bitches

Here’s one thing that pisses me off: women who act like picking out a wedding dress is a legitimate science worthy of academic pursuit. With absolute panic in their eyes, they say things like “My husband’s family booked a daytime outdoor wedding on a cruise ship, but I bought a floor-length gown with a train! This is a disaster! A cocktail-length sleeveless gown would be much more appropriate!” Then come the tears.

This goes double for the ladies who actually take the virginity equals white dress rule seriously, and, say, won’t wear ivory if they’re actually virgins, because they think only dirty whores and divorceés wear anything but the purest of snowy white. Or if they secretly screwed every guy in their alma mater (and that includes the professors and the TA’s) and are about as far away from virginity as Paris Hilton, they worry that wearing white would be dishonest and/or wrong. Like the wedding gods will take their violent revenge if the bride’s off-white gown is a little too on. Are we still in 19th Century feudal Spain, hanging our bridal sheets in the town square so all can see the blood? We might as well be, according to these women.

I’d much rather wear something colorful any day. For one thing, I don’t do well with white things, especially when I’ve been drinking. Liz can attest to this. You should see what was once our white couch. Secondly, who wants to look like every other boring cookie-cutter suburbanite marrying some bland guy with a boring job and ED? Throw some personal style into it! It’s the biggest day of your life, or so the TV would have you believe, so shouldn’t your outfit represent you? Frida Kahlo knew what was up.

Frida

Anyway, all these bride-to-be bitches need to go somewhere and sit down. They’re getting on my nerves. The End.

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