Why Friday’s columnist won’t have a big fat wedding

Tomorrow is the BIG DAY! Tomorrow is circled in red marker in my diary. Tomorrow is etched in my brain like a metaphorical alarm clock. Because tomorrow (no, I’m not talking about the FA Cup Final) is the day we celebrate when Harry met Meghan. YES! I’m an expat that loves England, has a soft spot for the royal family (it’s hard not to after getting hooked on The Crown….season 3 hurry up all ready) and on top of that I love a good wedding.

And as the cost of this colossal celebration is estimated to be around $58million …this should be a ‘good’ wedding.

I’ve ingested every scrap of news about the nuptials and I can’t wait to find out which bits are actually true. Will the Spice Girls really play a song at St George’s Chapel? Will ‘Markle the Marvel’ be wearing Ralph and Russo like she did in her engagement pictures? Will Harry’s exes Chelsea and Cressida really be attending?

Oh weddings! I’ve just watched one of my dearest friends get married in a beautiful festival-themed ceremony in North Wales – so emotional! I’m training a colleague to get in shape for her August nuptials – so proud! And most importantly, I’m helping my sister plan her big day in September – so, so happy! I’m in the thick of organising her hen do, as well as helping her design her invites, choose her dress, write my speech and finalise the theme for the flowers. I’m knee-deep in nuptials and it’s fair to say, that I love a wedding…that is, as long as no one mentions mine, or rather the lack of it.

I’ve been in a relationship for 16 years (maybe 17?) and I can count the number of times I’ve thought about a big fat wedding on two fingers. There was the time when my other half’s Dad got made an MBE, and the thought of getting married at St Paul’s Cathedral in London looked like it was an option, but the admin wasn’t worth the hassle. Oh, and the time I found the most beautiful Alexander McQueen gown in a sale, I took an hour to try on every size in the shop to no avail…for them to call me when I had driven 100-miles away to say they’d found my size in the stock room. I took the ‘hidden dress’ as another sign that my ‘never nuptials’ were a good thing.

And as the years have passed, there’s one thing that’s made me want a wedding less and less: people that keep asking me when I’m getting married. Those people are THE WORST. Those people are MEDDLERS! Those people are MY RELATIVES!

Last summer, at a huge family gathering these meddlers were in full force. The place was full of people I’d been avoiding for years – living in Dubai helps massively. But when people don’t see you for a few years, they want to ask you a few years’ worth of questions. And so started the “When will we be getting an invite to your wedding?” conversations. After laughing off the first three interrogations, when the next person asked, I simply answered: “Never, there’s a 10 per cent chance I’ll ever have a wedding and there’s a 0 per cent chance you’d get an invite even if I did.” And this is another thing that puts me off: wedding politics. My poor sister (let’s not mention how poor she’s actually going to be once this is over) is now having a big party the day before for all my parents’ friends who didn’t make the cut for the actual day. No No No…not for me! I’m happy with my dose of everyone else’s weddings and when they’re thin on the ground I’ll just top up on TV gold like Don’t Tell The Bride and Say Yes To The Dress.

source: Friday Magazine


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