Not Just A Wedding Dress

After finally being able to find a designer whom I’d like to do my dress and actually deciding on the costs and design, I started to think things are really finally falling into place. Relieved and excited, Kulas and I dropped by his place where we chanced upon his mom and an older sister having dinner. We told them the news and when they heard the designer’s name, they began exclaiming positive remarks about him. I was glad, of course, and despite a few qualms, I, too, got thrilled that I’ll be getting him. Somewhere along the dinner, I was asked to show them the design, which I got from the car.

It’s going to be a white bustier with accents of beadwork and crystals along one side of the hem. I want to go on and on describing the gown; after all, it’s been on my mind for months. I’ve seen myself in it countless times, laughing and dancing the wedding night away—until they saw it last night.

I understand their reaction perfectly. They are a very conservative and religious family and are members of a prelature of the Catholic Church, and as tradition dictates, I cannot wear the dress I have in mind to my wedding.

Neither Kulas nor I expected such reaction because his family has always been supportive of us. I tried to be cheerful about it. So the design is too bold? Alright, I’ll look for something else. My shoulders shouldn’t be exposed? Sure, I can go for a turtle neck (heck, I’ve always thought other women envied my shoulders). I tried to smile, be expressionless, quiet, defensive all at the same time. I tried not to be angry: why are they meddling with my wedding? It’s my dress for heaven’s sake! But no, really, I wasn’t angry. I was heartbroken and very, very disappointed.

I’d rather that they didn’t see me cry; but I did cry. At first, my eyes were merely welling up. But after they had made it clear that I really couldn’t wear something like that, I excused myself to cry and wished my mom was with me.

***
Having been raised in a devout Catholic family, I have learned to espouse traditions in my life. Though most people who know me would consider me to be the “rebellious”, non-conformist person who speaks her mind and stands up to anybody, my values have always remained intact. In my relationship with Kulas, in fact, my integrity has been put to test and I passed it. I know what his family’s like, what they do and do not approve of. At first, it was enough that they like me and welcomes me to be a part of their family. But last night, the issue about the dress has become more than that: it now stands for all that I am, which they have to see, know and accept. More importantly, it has become a symbol of what I value most and what I have to give up…

I cried because, first, I will be a bride in four months. A woman would simply and undeniably want to be the most radiant and beautiful on that day, a woman so beautiful all women who’d see me would wish they were me. Last night, I felt like I was being denied of becoming that woman, though I know that they didn’t intend for me to feel that way. I cried because I felt that they didn’t have the right to tell me what to wear and not. My own family has never withheld that freedom from me. In fact, nobody has. Nobody has had to tell me what to do. I have never lived a life of suppression in any form. But the thing is, Kulas’ family has their own values and I respect that. I cried because I respect these values, because I honor them and value what is important to them. I cried because I couldn’t tell them without hurting anyone that what they were telling me was too constricting and narrow. I cried because I wanted to tell them I would still be facing the Blessed Sacrament with honor and grace even if I would be in that dress. I cried because I wanted to tell them it would be wrong if I’d pretend I could settle for something else.

I cried because I have changed so much and no longer the stubborn girl who stomps her feet when she doesn’t get what she wants, and I love Kulas so much that I have grown to love the people he loves.

I am torn between my own beliefs and what they value. Kulas was asking for a compromise. The dress has become bigger than it really is. It’s not even about the question of who’s getting married anyway, or who’s paying for the dress. If it was my reason, I would be reduced to a shallow, self-indulgent person and this, I am not. And to answer a very good friend’s question, no, this is not going to be a preview of my married life. I will settle for a compromise now but I hope I’d have the heart to tell them that this will be the first and last time I’ll be crying and feeling miserable for giving up something I really want…

***

I couldn’t go to work today because of this. I’m here at home and I’m glad I am. I need to be in a safe, familiar place. I’ve cried all night and all morning, thinking about the dress and the bigger picture. My friend Tina’s right. The dress is just a small detail of joining a new family. I miss Kulas now but I want to stay here at home first and deal with this feeling of vulnerability on my own. I have shown this side of me to his family last night and I hope they acknowledge it. I hope they realize it’s not just the dress.

I pray, too, that they’d see I value truthfulness in my actions and in my life; and most especially, that I’d be able to move on after this—until the twelfth of May 2005 and beyond.