Wedding Blog

Dear Mr. Lovebug,

I’m sorry. I know you were quite keen to see my head framed in tulle this spring, but I’ve reached a decision. There will be no veil at our wedding. There are just too many strikes against it, the latest being they sent me the wrong one. I’m a firm believer in signs. You know I never speed through duck-crossing zones, and I always look out for Slow Children at Play (so we can point and laugh). And if the fact that the bridal salon sent me a vile, dishwater-colored mistake of a veil isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.

Just look at my dress. No wait, retract your finger. Don’t look. Take my word for it: a veil atop that number wouldn’t be gilding the lily, it would be gilding the Faberge egg.

And damn it, I just don’t think I’m a veil girl. Those I tried on made me feel fussy and…not myself. I’ve loved the idea of wearing my hair down and loose ever since I learned that Medieval queens did so to symbolize virginity. What are you snickering at? I’m feeling bad enough about being the anti-bride here, jeez.

Look, I’m still open to discussion about the garter thing. I promise I’m not going to deprive you of every wedding tradition you’ve dreamed of since you were a little boy. (Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you told me that.) But there will be no veils in sight on our wedding day.

On our wedding night, however…