About mid-way through the whole wedding planning process I had an aha moment. My mind began drifting back to the day when I was in fifth grade social studies after learning of ancient Europe and each student was directed to create a castle out of the material of their choice. This was a total given. I knew everyone was going to go down the same path I was. But on the day that assignment was due – I shockingly discovered I was the only one out of thirty-two kids who constructed my castle from flour and sugar. White cakes built the walls high, licorice and vanilla wafers acted as the drawbridge, and frosted ice cream cones sat tall to serve as watchtowers. The castle was finished off with pale blue icing spun around the perimeter for the moat and strategically placed m&m’s to add a little spunk to my enchanted palace.
Throughout the months of watching bridal show after bridal show with tiara after tiara, I thought hard about the days of my youth, trying to squeeze out at least one small recollection of having this (common to all but me) desire to be a princess-like bride. But my memory only directed me even further back to third grade. I remembered when my teacher hosted international food week. Left and right the little munchkins were bringing in tacos and burritos for Mexico, stale leftover fortune cookies to represent China, and even PB&J’s brought in by those few prideful tots. But me? I made “Spanish” meatballs with a big fat green olive in the center of each and every one. I mean, what 7-year-old doesn’t like olive stuffed meatballs? Psht! (Don’t answer that).
Determined to find out if I was swimming solo in the sea of wanna-be-a-princess like brides, I turned to my sister Courtney. “Did you ever dream of being a fairy tale princess floating through the sky in a poofy white dress on your wedding day?” I eagerly asked. Without hesitation she quickly responded, “Oh, no. All I cared about back in the day was trying to catch snakes.” Oddly comforted by these words, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was thrilled to know that maybe – just maybe – it was ok for me to care more about my cake than my dress. To be more excited about my appointments for tastings than I was for my appointments with the hairdresser. To actually not want to be a princess on my wedding day, but instead – to just be me…and eat cake.
On Saturday night as we celebrated our new lives together by delicately exchanging bites of Molly’s heavenly (and I mean HEAVEN-ly) mint chocolate chip cake, I found myself floating off into a never-never land filled with flowery fields of rainbowed unicorns and magical candy castles, and one handsome prince standing right by my side. It was at that very moment when I first began to feel…just like a princess.
Oh yeah — P.S. And we live happily ever after…