Yesterday was one hell of a day. I was practically triple dog dared (no one turns down a triple dog dare) to attend the "Southern Bridal Expo" at the NCSU Fairgrounds. Umm, let me first state that I am pretty much the anti-bride and secondly, I am definitely the anti Southern bride. Me doing southern? Ugh, no thanks. I'll definitely pass. However, my Mom got a hair brained idea that I would get great ideas at this expo. What she envisioned and what I envisioned were as opposite as night and day.
We finally find the place and might I just add that the outside smelled like manure. I don't do manure. I gag at shoveling cat poo and I've been doing it most my life. So, I already kind of had a literal bad smell and taste to the place. I get in and realized I was a bad bride for not pre-registering. Who really takes the time to pre-register for this stuff? I filled out my info and then there was a groom's info section. I figured since this rat bastard isn't with me, he might as well get spammed with chick shit e-mails. I am that type of woman by the way, spiteful. So they see that my wedding date is 9/13/13. I get slapped with a huge blue sticker that says "September 2013". Okay, why that embarrassed me is beyond me, but hell it did. They had Groom stickers and I wished he was there suffering with me. My mom was excited to put a "Mother of The Bride" sticker on. I asked what this sticker meant because I am that stupid of an anti-bride. Apparently my sticker informs vendors where I am at in the planning stages. What plan is what I ask myself?
We hit the 20,000 square foot fluff convention. Now, I'm all for glitz and pizazz but not so much the fluff and Southern Brides are all about fluff. The first vendor oddly enough was a venue place I contacted 2 weeks ago vis a vis e-mail. This place (who shall remain nameless) wrote me a nasty gram telling me that they could not accommodate "such a small affair". I crossed those dirty bastards off my list. As this venue was the 1st vendor, the bridal pusher (as I called them) was trying to lure me in to their bullshit. I swiftly cut her off at her knees as I told her that their nastygram made their point abundantly clear that my "affair was not worth their time". I also informed them from an economic standpoint their venue will not make it if they continue to turn business away. Like duh.
As I stood there and put that venue in their place a bridal gown store overheard my snarky comments and proceeded to clap. Apparently, I was their anti-bride hero. I started to ask them questions and my mom did as well and decided to set up my 1st wedding dress appointment. Oy vey, what the hell am I getting into here? I told them that under no circumstances will they put me in poofy fluffy crap. I'm a modern gal and not that girlie with that kind of glitz. My mom was explaining how I have a disease (RA) and how my disease is in control of telling me when I'm screwed and need a surgery and how would that affect dress purchasing. As she was yammering away a chiropractor booth was across the pathway. They were listening to my mom describe my problems. I was watching them as they were consulting with brides and giving them this free test. Of course this scan was coming back normal for every bride. So, I knew it wasn't a traveling flim flam man operation or a traveling snake oil scam.
I went over there because I have been contemplating chiropractic care and auto-immune disease. I filled out this sheet circling my problems. After that the "doctor" came to talk to me and I openly disclosed Rita and the subsequent problems and surgeries she caused/causes me. He looked concerned and did this scan he did on the other brides. I did not fess up that RA has been indicated in my thoracic portion of my spine and I wanted to see if that was detected by the machine. Sure enough T4 and T5 showed up but C 1-4 showed up in a MAJOR way with these horrible long red bars of danger. The "doctor" was in such shock he dropped his machine. He stated he never had seen that or at that level of bad. Great! He asked me if I have been seen by a neurologist. Ummm, no....why? He was telling me something was really really wrong. Yeah no shit sherlock, I can see that with my own two eyes. After speaking with him for some time I decided to see him for an eval (which I did today and it's not looking good but will no more Wednesday after my results come in).
After that I just wanted to stuff myself with wedding cake samples and mimosa samples. I met with a few photographers I liked. One though pissed me off. He didn't mean to but he asked me what I found to be an invasive question. He asked me what defined us as a couple. I stood there in silence not knowing what to say. I asked him, "come again?" and he asked me what we like to do as a couple. Ummm, I don't know? We like to sit our crippled asses on the couch and watch TV? How pathetic does that sound? My mom stepped in because she feared that either I'd start to cry or punch the asshole out. I can go either way. So my mom explained how both of us have medical problems that prohibit us from doing quite a bit of hobbies. I stood there and felt like if you are hobbyless you are useless. I wanted to say he could take our damn engagement couple photos in the hospital where we have spent many years and large chunks of change on. Take pics of us on hospital beds or at physical therapy, no better yet take pics of us at an ortho's office! Shmuck nugget. That really agitated/still agitates me. I'm not useless because I do not do as much as others.
Thank Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that was the last row of hell. That last row was likened to Dante's inner circle of hell. I felt like turning into stone and remain frozen giving the middle finger to that ass wipe. Okay, vent is completed.
I met some interesting characters and feel no more closer to getting anything solidified for OUR wedding. My fiance is getting in a bad habit of saying "your" wedding. Ummm there's two of us dummy.
Do you picture me getting married in a barn? Yeah, me neither.
That is all the Southern Bride show taught me. I do not want to get married in a shit filled wooden hut.