Weddingbee Blog

So, we’ve registered. I want to break registering up into two parts, and I’m going to go Sour Patch Kids style and give it to you sour then sweet.

I feel guilty.

Source

My mother raised me to be thrifty, which is partially why my favorite store is Marshalls. Believe you me, being thrifty is a learned behavior. I love shopping the clearance racks and sifting through Marshalls finds now, but when everyone else was wearing Nike in fourth grade, I wasn’t so proud. I’ve always been spend-conscious, even to the point where I commuted to school for two years to save money. Zeb was raised on the opposite side of the spending spectrum, and there is nothing wrong with it. We often joke about his expensive taste and how he already has everything. Spending is a learned behavior, and I surely hope to pass my thriftiness (but not my shopping addiction) on to my children. Now that you have our history, back to the registry.

We own a home—no surprise there. We get along with what we have just fine. So we’re standing in the middle of the store, with a scanning gun, looking at all the things we already have. The first thing we scanned was a white shower curtain. We’ve already got a white shower curtain. Why do we need a new one? We don’t—that’s why I’ve already eliminated it from the registry. As we kept scanning with reckless abandon, I was brought back to the day my mother and I went shopping for a family member and Mom was saying how ridiculously expensive some of the things she had registered for were. She registered for, not they. I’m going to get all the glory and all the blame. That’s why I feel the pressure-like guilt. On the other hand, Zeb’s mom and I have had a chuckle over some inexpensive things people have registered for. Most likely, my guilt stems from the fact that I have indeed judged people based on their registries. If only my naive self had known the staff follow you around telling you “you should register for three times as many things as people” and “you should register for goodies in all price ranges in case a group wants to go in and buy you something big” and (my personal favorite) “those Calphalon pans will last you a long time, and they have shrinkage technology in order to not shrink your steak when you grill it on the stove.” OK, that last one may not be a direct quote, but it’s pretty close. I feel bad that I am telling people how to spend their money. It is true, they have several choices on how to spend, but will they judge me by what everything costs regardless of whether they buy it?

Part of my guilt also stems from the fact that a family member recently hinted that there are a lot of weddings in the family and “what’s wrong with a backyard wedding?” My family and Zeb’s family have very different views, as previously noted, which also puts me in an awkward spot. However, the main point of a wedding is to celebrate the union of two people and to join families, and hell, if we and our parents want to shell out for a damn fancy shindig, well, dust off your blue suede shoes and enjoy it. I’m sensitive to those family members who cannot afford to buy me a gift, and from them I ask for only their love and support. It is not about the gifts, or registries, or centerpieces (although they are sexy as hell): it is about love.

In writing this, I feel better. Perhaps I have been letting my guilt build and get the better of me in more areas than just the registry. I do want to say one thing, though, and this is true for all the brides out there registering: Do not register for something that you don’t like because it is cheaper. Let Judgy McJudgerson do what she does best because in the end $50 saved is $40 somebody wasted on something you don’t like.