I’d like a wedding do-over

I’m just home from the loveliest wedding and my tears are almost dry. But more importantly, I have decided it is time for me to get married again.
Don’t worry. I told my husband and he took it very well. I don’t want to marry someone else. I just want to have another wedding. Come on, people. After almost 30 years, you know you want the same thing. And no, renewing our vows won’t cut it. I want another couple of bridal showers with all new towels, linens, cutlery and everyday dinnerware, and all those other goodies. I would be much more affordable this time, since I won’t waste time asking for expensive china or silver.
This yearning to have another wedding, actually, is not something new. I was in some sort of idiot trance when I got married the first time, even at the supposedly wise old age of 32. I was so amazed someone had finally proposed, I got all shy about it (yes, I was once shy) and refused to let my parents spend any real money on me, their only daughter. It seems I was living as a bad example to others even then, because I have told every young bride-to-be I have met since then to make that day as special as they can. It really is one of two or three major days in any woman’s otherwise hum-drum life and, honey, it’s the only one that is all about you.
Your husband or friends might throw you a surprise birthday party sometime in the next 50 years, but don’t count on it. This is your best shot at looking beautiful, feeling beautiful and having a fabulous party to boot. Childbirth is very cool, but really lacks the aforementioned and, again, is not all about you.
OK. Here’s specifically what not to do. Do not refuse your mother’s pleas to let her buy you a fabulous wedding gown. Talk about regrets. I picked a really simple sheath pattern and had mine made. It was lovely but it was not fabulous and, if you aren’t headed for the red carpet at the Oscars, what other time in your life do you get to do fabulous? Besides that, I really hurt my wonderful mom’s feelings and shut her out of my big day without intending to. That’s hard to fix later. She should have been my best friend during that time, but I wouldn’t let her.
Then when it came to picking a church and reception site, I again went for the least expensive. Sadly, it showed. I could have waited a couple of months and gotten a classy Officer’s Club with a view of the ocean, but no. I was in a stupid state of mind and insisted on a July wedding at Miramar. Do I need to say it was hot? And my after-reception reception was in El Cajon?
I didn’t have enough flowers. I didn’t have centerpieces. I didn’t even have decent hors d’oeuvres. It was pathetic and no doubt made my parents, known for their fabulous parties, look bad when it was all my decision. They were very forgiving, but that’s not good enough. I really think it has to be re-enacted, redone, restaged, and this time the right way. I’m not talking about something out of “Platinum Weddings,” but there is a lot of wiggle room between my last go-round and that level of insanity.
I know my adorable and doting father would finance it again, with a smile, but even I, the greedy second-time-around bride, really can’t conscience asking him to.
Anybody know where there’s a good sale on towels?


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