And as there are so many reasons this is true that I bet you’re wondering which specifically I mean – is it the organisation of a large scale event to meet the needs and demands of two families and numerous friends? Is it her ability to stay (relatively) calm when agreeing to commit her entire life to one person? Or is it her talent for multi-tasking which enables her to organise a wedding whilst holding down a full time job, running a house and rustling up (low standard) restaurant worthy meals every evening?
And whilst these are all perfect reasons to applaud the bride for her superhuman qualities, this is not what I mean.
No, I am talking about the Superman-esque costume change which turns the formally Normal Woman into an instant BRIDE. Like Clark Kent taking off his glasses and ripping off his suit to become a flying man of steel (who is oddly afraid of a very shiny green stone) all it takes is a quick step into a white gown and a woman goes from Miss Jeans and Trainers 2012 to Mrs Mega Bridal – Woman of Ivory. (And arguably, these superheroes are even better than Superman – I can’t imagine you’ve ever met any woman who starts complaining in the face of a massive sparkly rock).
On the morning of my first wedding dress shopping trip I awoke like a seven year old on their birthday. But whereas a child cannot wait to unwrap all their gifts, I couldn’t wait to become my very own present with as many bows and ribbons on as I could find.
But at the same time as feeling so excited I feared I might be asked to sit in the boutiqe corner and CALM DOWN, I also felt a little bit nervous about what was ahead.
There is no denying that putting on one of these dresses is a big deal. There aren’t any other outfits (unless you live in Downton Abbey) that you need another human being to help you climb into. And what you’re saying by putting one on is “I am officially going to get married and become a grown up with a husband. Load up the people carrier, I’m off to a PTA meeting.”
I have spent so much time over the last few months worrying about how the devil I am going to get my hair to behave, my face to act my age and my arms to become one consistent colour rather than a combination of pasty white AND sun burnt red in time for the big day, that I forgot about the crucial ingredient I was missing which would make all the difference: the dress.
And so I put one on and, lo and behold, there in the mirror stood a bride with my face. It’s amazing what an enormous amount of satin, lace and sparkle can do, oh, and the crucial willingness-to-remortgage-your-house-to-look-like-a-princess finishing touch. Having now put several of these bad boys on I can tell you I am more than willing. We can just live in the packaging my dress comes in if that’s what it takes, there’ll be plenty of room for two.
Sadly the only problem with trying wedding dresses on is that normal clothes seem so boring afterwards. My jeans are just as comfy, my t-shirts just as stripy but nobody either oohs or aahs when I step out the door in them, which frankly I find rude.
I guess this is why other superheroes keep their costumes underneath their everyday clothes. I just might need some slightly bigger jeans to fit mine in.