All by my very own self

Posted on April 28, 2009. Filed under: deciding |

Miss Crab Cake’s post got me thinking (as it did many of you) about how I want to deal with being escorted down the aisle (or in our case, “the trail”).  This is where sentimentality meets reality and I’m conflicted.

I very much wanted to walk alone, a la Mrs. Lovebug (on whom I will admit I have a huge crush).  The symbolism of my presenting myself to my beloved is clearest to me and I know he’d like to see me for the first time “on the aisle.”

But reality rears its messy, woody and unevenly graded self: the trail leading to our ceremony site plus my somewhat snug dress plus heels (stability meets fashion) make this a slightly risky plan.  I could trip, I could fall, or I could spend the whole time watching my feet instead of my loveys.  And if I have to lean on someone, I’d like to lean on my guy.  So, I thought we could do a “first look.”

Then we started “Wedding Wednesdays” (love them) and one of the items on the agenda was for him to give me his opinion on “first looks.”  Of course, Mr. Traditionalist (except, evidently, for living in sin) wanted to see me for the first time on the aisle.  Who am I to keep a guy from his romantic wedding wish?

So crap.  Back to the beginning.  I could ask my dad to escort me and it would be sweet.  We have a much better relationship now that I have a much greater appreciation for him and the gifts I’ve inherited from him.  Or I could ask both of my parents as I did for my first wedding.  It took both of them to create my fabulous self, right? (*snicker*)  Either option would be fine and I’d have someone to lean on.

But is it bad that I really, really, really want to escort myself?  Traditions and potential hurt feelings aside — not to mention possible face-plants — I feel like a grown-up for the very first time in my almost 30 years and I’m making a fully-aware decision to join someone in a life I see clearly and honestly.  I see what a marriage really is and I’m choosing it anyway.  While I mean no disrespect to my fabulous parents or their awesome impact on my life, it’s been a lot of darned hard work to be able to stand proud and pledge myself to a man… and I really want to do it all by my very own self!  {No, I didn’t stomp my foot when I said that, though I thought about it.  Ha.}

Will I regret it?  I don’t know.  I’ve scoffed at traditions in the past only to realize too late why they matter.  But my gut’s telling me that the way for me is by myself.  Evidently it doesn’t care about gravel trails and steep declines.

What about you?  How will you make it down the aisle?  Is anyone choosing their escort out of some inexplicable gut feeling?

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4 Responses to “All by my very own self”

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Last week I blogged about my favorite wedding of all time, in which the bride’s parents left her at the end of the aisle and she walked down alone in front of them. I kind of really really want to do that – partly from a fear that my dress and my two parents will not fit down an aisle, partly because of my fear of looking “perp-walked” the way my BIL did when his parents did it, and partly because I like the sentiment of walking alone in the largest decision I have ever made, with my parents following closely behind.
I say go it alone – can you bring a uber-chic walking stick of some kind?

I walked in alone in my wedding two weekends ago, and it was totally fine. The most important thing is that you are happy with your entrance — it is *your* wedding! I didn’t want to be “given away.” My dad has passed away and it just felt silly having my mom or someone else walk me down the aisle when my now-husband and I had been living together and were two very independent adults. Definitely do whatever you’re most comfortable with — you won’t regret it, but you may regret doing something that doesn’t feel like *you* on your wedding day!

[…] the decision to walk myself down the aisle didn’t seem like such a great idea.  Sure, the symbolism was clear, but I hadn’t anticipated […]

[…] the decision to walk myself down the aisle didn’t seem like such a great idea. Sure, the symbolism was clear, but I hadn’t anticipated not […]


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    I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt (and divorce papers) to prove it. Here I am again, pledging my life to my (new) love with eyes wide open (and heart racing) knowing full well how emotionally traumatic this can end… and doing it anyway.

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