I feel like you should shake me and say “Only a bridezilla would put her wedding over the needy!”
Payment plans are a thing. We can make this work. Maybe I can have a “perfect smile.”
My parents had already been divorced for several years when I approached them with the question about how we’d pay for the wedding, but tensions between them were still quite high.
When my parents got married in the 1970s, they had what my mother grudgingly conceded, decades later, was a “big wedding.” At the wedding dinner, there were 100 tables for a thousand guests in all—500 on my mum’s side, and 500 on my dad’s.
“There are snacks and Kleenex in my purse right now. I am like a bridesmaid waiting for a wedding.”
It started, like so many weddings do, with a white dress. Not the wedding dress, which would come later, but a little cotton sundress I found on a rainy San Francisco day. I was waiting for my fiancé to arrive from his nonprofit job so we could walk together to Williams Sonoma and start to register for kitchen utensils. I ducked into a high-end store to get out of the rain.
Yes, Burger King is now paying for the Burger-King wedding, and I hope that at some point on that Skype call the Burger King representative said “have it your way.”
“Couples who make more than $125,000 a year (combined) cut their divorce risk in half.” So, yeah. You don’t have to be wealthy for San Francisco, just wealthy for Arkansas.