Wedding planning is...ticking along. My wedding dress is being lovingly made by Inspector Climate's aunt. Using the top of one pattern, the bottom of another pattern, and the lace from my great grandmother's dress when she got married circa 1920.
I've made some big strides and am becoming more accepting about what this wedding is actually about in the last few days. See, I was under the misconceived notion that
It is about us. But it's not for us. It's for family.
And once I accepted this - it has been much easier for me to accept things that I've been forced to compromise on (I don't want mother flipping meat served at my mother flipping wedding - oh wait! This is not about me).
I'd really like to wear whatever jewelery I damn well please on the day - oh wait! The jewelery isn't for me! It's for my grandmother - fine. I'll wear it. The aforementioned lace? My grandmother cried with joy when she heard I would consider using it in my dress - and thus, how could I then say no? Even though I wanted to.
It's all trivial isn't it?
Well, it was until today. Today when I went to purchase the shoes.
A few weeks ago on twitter, I asked the people about where they buy their ballet flats and Oneika brilliantly suggested Banana Republic - and while I secretly thought she might be crazy, because why would a place like Banana Republic carry burnt orange ballet flats. But ya'll, Oneika is the ballet flat fairy and she sprinkled fairy dust on Banana Republic for lo, they
I like to think before I buy and so, I waited a week or two before purchasing.
And now they're gone.
If there was a shoe injustice hotline - I'd be on the phone, because I feel this loss immensely.
RIP orange ballet flats.