Look. It’s Not Like I Wore It Playing Football or Cut It Up and Turned It Into Curtains. But That Would’ve Been Okay, Too.
I must apologize to the guys out there for a minute, because I’m going to talk about something a little girly.
Nope. A lot girly.
See, Stephanie over at My One Precious Life got me thinking about wedding dresses. Obviously not about buying wedding dresses since I’m already married, but about selling them. (Not for a living. Trust me, I have not done all of this soul-searching for the past 2 years only to discover that my one true calling is to sell wedding gowns to blushing brides and their overextended pocket books. Blech.
No offense to anyone who sells wedding gowns.)
She, like me, decided to sell her dress post-wedding. I mean, why not? This way you make a little cash, and some other lucky girl scores a gown at a bargain basement price.
Seems like a win-win situation, if you ask me. If you ask anyone else, however, you might run into some contention.
What? You SOLD your wedding dress?? But it’s your WEDDING dress! You know, the one you wore to your WEDDING!
Yep. I know the one.
Bu-but… don’t you MISS it?
Look. I only wore it the one time. And it served its purpose well. But, if we did this thing right, I’ll never need a wedding dress again. Missing it is kind of irrelevant. And keeping it, at least for me, is impractical.
Well what about the memories? You have all kinds of memories in that dress!
Yes, and that’s what photos are for. I find them to be more compact. And less poofy.
And your daughter! What if you have a daughter and she wants to wear that dress??
Okay… so I’m supposed to keep this dress hanging around on the chance that I produce a daughter or a slim cross-dressing son or even have a kid at all. Then, I’m supposed to push all of these expectations on her: She needs to be exactly the same size I was when I got married at 23; she better like the not-exactly-traditional style I picked 3-4 decades earlier and it better be a formal wedding, since this is a formal dress; oh, and she has to get married. Has to. That’s her only option in life. Because I’ll be damned if I paid to have this dress preserved and hanging around this 1,600 square foot house for over a quarter of a century just so my nonexistent daughter can go do something crazy like ignore my inadvertent wedding gown guilt trips and live her life the way she wants.
Well. You don’t have to be all snarky about it. I just don’t think that I would have the heart to do it. That’s all. I’m not cold and calloused and heartless as you.
Really? Because you’re the one keeping it locked away in a dark closet somewhere, and I’m the one who loved it and let it go — set it free to dance another night.
ewww! Kissy photo!
Okay. So a dress is an inanimate object, obviously, so don’t start feeling guilty if it’s locked in your closet. Especially if you’re super sentimental about it. There’s nothing wrong with that.
But that’s just it — I’m not the sentimental type. At least not when it comes to stuff.
I’m a purger. We do a massive gutting of our closets at least once per year, and with the exception of a few choice childhood mementos and reasonably sized wedding trinkets (like the Air Force garter hand-made by my mother-in-law), anything that sits untouched for a lengthy period of time that I know the chances of me needing again are slim to none, is a goner.
It just feels good.
Keeps me sane.
Like clearing out the junk from my closets is akin to chucking the mushy contents of my mind with an ice cream scoop and starting fresh. With a clean bowl.
And clearly my sanity is more important than a gown. A gown that, while I loved it, just as easily could have been a flowy white linen dress I wore standing on a beach at our destination wedding, had I gotten my way.
And you know what?
I probably wouldn’t have kept that one, either.
*All photos taken by Jeff Pope of Iconic Photography.