I Hate Jennie Garth

It’s 11:36 on Sunday night. I got in bed at 9:00. Not only am I unable to fall asleep, but also I am unable to find anything watchable on television, which means I’m watching Jennie Garth. I just decided that I HATE Jennie Garth. Not only has Jennie Garth always been pretty, but she’s gotten to wear like, a zillion wedding gowns without having to ACTUALLY get married (on both 90210, in an ill-fated wedding to Brandon, and on What I Like About You, in an ill-fated wedding to some other guy, I never watched this show so I don’t know his name). Wearing wedding gowns and not ACTUALLY getting married is MY dream. It will never happen, unless I convince my friend Heather to let me borrow her engagement ring so I can try on gowns. But that would be pathetic, wouldn’t it? No, it wouldn’t. Because, you see, I wouldn’t be pretending I was getting married because of the whole marriage thing, but rather, because I like wearing fancy clothes. What is fancier than a wedding gown? Nothing. It’s no secret among my friends that I’m not sure I actually want to get married, and I think the main reason most women do get married is because we can’t refuse a good party and an awesome outfit. If I got engaged, and was given a gorgeous gown instead of a diamond ring, the actual wedding would likely never occur. I would have already gotten what I came for. This is one of two pictures I could find of Kelly and Brandon’s didn’t-happen wedding, and I couldn’t even find ONE of the WILAY wedding, which proves the insignificance of both shows.
There’s not much to envy about the Kelly dress. My arms would look ginormous in those cap sleeves. But, she’s playing with a Marilyn Monroe look here, and I think that would be sort of fun.

The WILAY wedding dress was huge and poofy, traditional, and ultimately, ridiculous.


Like: I would never wear something like this if I actually got married, but I’d love to just wear it, around my apartment while I did the dishes or something. Or preferably, while someone else did the dishes and I twirled around my living room singing old Shirley Horn tunes. Pointless Shirley plug, listen here:http://www.amazon.com/Heres-Life-Shirley-Horn/dp/B0000046KM (I'm basically a happy and grateful person, despite how I sound right now. I love "Here's to Life.")

If I DID get married, I'd wear something like this:


Kidding! (That's me in my Halloween costume, in case you're wondering. My friends and I were "Britney Spears Through the Years." Side note: Is it charming or pathetic that I'm acting like anyone who doesn't actually know me is reading this blog? Second side note: This is not only a fantastic Halloween costume, but a fantastic idea for a post, which I lay claim to, now.) ANYWAY,whatever I did wear would have a jetpack or something on it, to aid a quick getaway.
According to lovetoknow.com, “During Medieval times, the wedding was more than just a union between two people, in many occasions it was a union between two families, two businesses and even two countries.” This will undoubtedly be the case when my friend Lauren marries the English bloke she’s been shacking up with.

Anyway, what they wore symbolized their class, and was expected to represent both families in the most flattering light. Apparently, there was no alcohol around at these medieval weddings to shatter that image.
I also have an aversion to the veil. Over the face is especially offensive, but I’m beginning to lump the veil in with the assholes who wear tiaras and wings on their wedding days. Yes, I know it’s YOUR DAY, but you’re still not a princess, and you’re certainly not a fucking butterfly.
Shall we examine the origin of the veil? Jennie Garth is still on, so I say, we shall. I get into arguments with my mother over this, which is odd since, currently, the most poignant relationship in my life is between me and my Excedrin Migraine. Let no man put THAT asunder. My mother will be heartbroken when I don’t wear a veil on my wedding day, if such a day ever occurs. She often uses the word “tradition” in her argument. According to Wikipedia (research is boring), “The lifting of the veil was often a part of ancient wedding ritual, symbolizing the groom taking possession of the wife, either as lover or as property, or the revelation of the bride by her parents to the groom for his approval.” This is a wonderful tradition, isn’t it? Not only is it NOT, it’s against everything she ever taught me about feeling obligation to someone else---that I shouldn’t. Unless, of course, that person happens to be her.
This is going to end badly. What’s going to happen? I’m going to have the most untraditional wedding ever, which I’ll still end up running away from, because I equate getting married with my life stopping, even though I have friends who are living, breathing proof that this is not necessarily true. I’m going to play the theme from Super Mario as I walk down the aisle. When I arrive at the alter, I’ll promptly drop down one of those green tubes and move on with my life. Hopefully I won’t have to go through that scary castle, and hopefully, something better than Jennie Garth will be on TV later that night.
Now, for your enjoyment, some of the most ridiculous wedding gowns I could find: