Weddingbee Blog

I don’t know if this is for real, but it was posted on craigslist in Phili.

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A Letter to Bridezilla

Reply to: pers-109495710@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-11-07, 1:48PM EST
I was inspired by a bridezilla posting from a few days ago.

This is to my dear friend, Amanda, who I’ve known since the 4th grade.

We grew up in the same neighborhood. We got our first bras together. We went to the same highschool and double dated to the prom. Even though we went to different colleges in diferent states, we remained as close as ever.

A year and a half ago Amanda, you called me on the phone and told me that you just got back from a date with the guy you were going to marry. I was so excited, and that excitement only grew after I met your boyfriend, Adam, and got to know what a great guy he is. I was thrilled when, three months ago, you called me up at 2:30 in the morning to tell me that Adam had just proposed on a secluded beach where you were vacationing. I got tears in my eyes as you told me how happy you were to finally be in love with a person who loves you so much in return, and how wonderful your lives were going to be. And then, you asked me to be maid of honor at your wedding, and we laughed and cried and I told you that I’d be honored to be there on your wedding day, and support you as you’ve supported me for the past 20 years.

Well, it’s been three months now and I don’t know who you are anymore. My cool friend, who I used to be able to laugh, cry, and joke with has turned into a BRIDEZILLA. But instead of stomping all over Tokyo, you’ve chosen to stomp all over me, your best friend. Here are just some of the ways you’ve chosen to make me feel like a complete piece of crap:

1. Choosing a bridesmaids outfit that is particularly unflattering for all of your attendants. Not one of us is a size 4, and you know this, but your sister is going to be 8 months pregnant when you walk down the aisle. Yet you think that pink strapless satin was the way to go. I can deal with it, and your bridesmaids can deal with it, but your sister is going to look like a bottle of Pepto. What kind of a bitch are you? (Oh, and I think it’s great that you went with the “designer” version of the dress that sells for $280. You’re right, it’s going to be SOOOOO much better than the cheaper version of the exact same thing that sells for $110.)

2. Telling me that instead of letting me bring a guest to your wedding (my boyfriend of nearly two years being the person *I* had in mind), you’re going to make me take Adam’s cousin, who is slow and lives in a group home. I’m sure he’s a great guy, and I’m glad that I can babysit for him so you “won’t have to watch him during the wedding,” but did you ever think I may have wanted to dance or have a good time or something?

3. Dragging me around to 11 different bridal stores so you can try on dress after dress after dress that all look EXACTLY THE SAME. Isn’t this what your mother is for? I have a JOB. I have HOBBIES. I do VOLUNTEER WORK. I am too busy to go with you to Harrisburg three weekends in a row in search of “the perfect dress”!!!

4. Telling me not to cut my hair until the wedding because you think if my hair is too short I’ll “stick out.”

5. Telling me and your bridesmaids that we’re getting a day at the spa before the wedding and then telling us that we’re each paying $155 for it!! You’re right, that will REALLY help us “de-stress.”

6. Telling me exactly what kind of favors you want at the wedding, and going with me to get the supplies that *I* ended up paying for, and WATCHING me while I assembled 85 bags of jordan almonds, and then telling me that you weren’t going to use them after all because they “looked cheap.” They weren’t cheap, Princess Cow, and I have the $214 receipt to prove it.

7. And, finally, the final straw: when you called me up this morning and yelled at me on the phone because you found out I hadn’t ordered the shoes I have to wear for your wedding. A wedding that is still six, long months from now.

Amanda, I’ve been really, really nice up until now. I’ve let you walk all over me because I knew that this day was special to you. But I just want to let you know this:

1. I’m never going to order those shoes. I plan on wearing sneakers during your wedding and there’s fuck all you can do about it.
2. I’m going to give Adam’s cousin, my “date,” matches to play with during the reception. Sorry in advance that you won’t get your hall deposit back.
3. In four months, when you give me all your invitations and expect me to assemble and mail them, I’m going to take 10 of ‘em and put them through the shredder. Good luck explaining to your crazy-ass family why some of them didn’t get invited.

And, finally, after you’ve walked up the aisle, and said your “I do’s” I am going to erase your name from my address book and never speak to you again. If a wedding makes you this fucking nuts, I can’t even imagine what having kids will do to you. Best of luck, Adam, you’re going to need it.

Love, Lindsey