It’s my special day—everyone says so

When we still were deciding where we would hold our wedding ceremony and reception, we learned that as soon as the word “wedding” was mentioned, the charges increased.

So instead of telling people upfront that I was hosting a wedding, I said it was a reception. I didn’t lie; if asked I said it was a wedding. Regardless, eventually, the venue’s coordinator would ask for specifics. When I said that it was a wedding, I usually was told that the price he or she quoted me earlier no longer applied; the facility had “special rates for weddings.”

When I pressed for the reason behind this special rate, I had some interesting exchanges:

• “We’ve charged all of our other weddings more money and it wouldn’t be fair to those brides if we charged you less.”
• “We give special attention to weddings.” When I asked if that meant that they didn’t give special attention to their other customers, there was silence
• “Mothers of the bride are difficult to deal with.” I found it offensive that they were prejudging my mom. And sheÂ’’s easy to deal with.

Regardless, all of their responses centered on the concept of “my special day.”

You see if “my” day (never once “our” day) was to be special, I would need extra attention and that required more money. Time and again people tried to sell the notion that the day must be perfect and for a little bit more they could make the wedding of my dreams come true.

I am not the bride-to-be who has had a vision since childhood of what her wedding day would be like. I assumed that there would be a groom and depending on who the groom was, members of my family would be in attendance (thankfully they’re still showing up, despite it being Zach).

I knew, however, somethings that I did not want

• poultry—my beef is not with the bird, but rather with the industry where the big processing companies exploit small chicken farmers
• a traditional cake—(you’ll have to see what weÂ’re substituting for cake at the reception)—Zach and I don’t like cake that much, ergo no cake
• a veil—just a personal decision; I don’t want to wear one

Funny thing is though, no matter how clear I had been with potential caterers and dress shops, they don’t listen.

One catering company, listed as one of the best in Washington, DC, by the Washingtonian (”brides like this 79-year-old company’s food and service; an ‘event designer’ is assigned to each wedding”) submitted a potential menu of chicken lurking under wild mushrooms, as well as an elaborate multi-tiered cake encased in spun sugar flowers.

And while looking at dresses at a snooty Alexandria, VA, bridal shop (Hannelore’s), one salesperson ignored my refusal of a veil and plopped one on my head.

She then said, “See, don’t you look beautiful with the veil?”

I said, “I think I’m beautiful anyway” and left.