So I have this bizarre obsession with weddings, and I’m going to admit right now that it even creeps me out a little. First, I’d like to note that I’m not at all interested in the marriage or lovey-dovey aspect of weddings (ignore that I just seriously used the word lovey-dovey in a sentence). I’m at that pseudo-thoughtful college-student stage in my life where I’m like, “I don’t even know if I beliiieeevve in marriage… mehhh, I’m a sociology major, I’m so sensitive to the realistic expectations of romantic relaaationnnshiiipps” (direct quote, guys).
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| "Guys, Mean Girls is so relevant to Simmel's theory about the dyad!" "Stop trying to make Sociology happen, MEGAN" |
Mostly, I’m just hopelessly in love with the reality television aspect of weddings. On a recent episode of 30 Rock, Jack tells Liz to “go home, have a glass of wine and watch a show about wedding cake disasters,” and I honestly paused the video right there and went to see if Say Yes to the Dress was streaming on TLC’s website (They make you buy that shit on iTunes, conniving bastards).
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| You can't not like this show. |
On a related note, Anthropologie recently put out a line of wedding dresses and I want nothing more than to buy their $300 satin, mustard-yellow slingbacks and pair them with this dress and that humongous, head-eating flower and call it a day:
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| I was going to go the veil route...but this is nice? |
I know that they are evil corporate monsters masquerading as a friendly vintage clothing store, but I just can’t resist. Their wedding website offers style advice, second opinions, and reassurance, guys. Do you think I can call them to talk about stuff other than weddings? Because I’m stressing about finals, and I could have really used them the other day when I accidentally lit those pork buns on fire in my microwave (note to self: microwaving for 10 min does NOT equal steaming for 10 minutes).
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| An equally genius idea. |
On the other side of the wedding thing, in the last few months, a puppy-litter worth of my friends, acquaintances, and people from high school who I am Facebook friends with but actually just secretly judge for their recent forays into body art have suddenly (often INEXPLICABLY) gotten engaged.
I’ve responded to this with what I believe is a healthy mixture of excitement, disgust, and a feeling similar to eating a lot of funnel cake and then riding a rollercoaster (note: I have not been able to even smell funnel cake now without experiencing this feeling. Thank you, Chicago Loop). For the most part this stems from an irrational fear of a phenomenon that Japan calls Leftover Christmas Cake. You’d think that the dual pros of being from Japan and having to do with leftover dessert would mean this is a good thing. You’d be wrong.
“Leftover Christmas Cake” (no relation to funnel cake, although they incite similar feelings of nausea and self-loathing), to put it simply, refers to unmarried women over 25. Because apparently, once you’ve reached 25, no one wants to eat your Christmas cake. Your figurative Christmas cake. You get the point.
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| Dear Japan: I think you are confused about what Christmas is. Also, feminism. |
Anyways, I have about 5 more years before I become leftover - and i'm totally fine with that. In fact, I am looking forward to it. But good LORD do I not want to spend my time as Leftover Christmas Cake without the company of all my other Christmas Caker friends. So stop getting married you guys, because marriage leads to babies and me having a quarter-lifer crisis, which are two things that I do not regularly think happy thoughts about. Also, I really want to be a cougar one time. That would be cool.
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| Gameplan: This should not be yours |
