It begins...

I've recently rejoined that population who are not actively planning weddings, those folks we call "just plain old married people." It's a bit of an odd transition into the post-planning phase. I certainly love being married to the man I love and settling down to create our new life together, but after all of the arranging and the organizing and bustling around, it's strange to simply not be doing all that. On a recent vacation to the city where we got married, we had to visit zero vendors to visit, no checks to write out, and nothing to fashion into attractive place cards. Our thank you cards are long sent, our gifts have been integrated into the kitchen, and we're content to let people pick their own seats from here on in.

Going through my box of bridal shower and wedding paraphernalia made me think about how great the day itself was and how many memories we'll take away from the day. (Not to mention the stories about the events and misadventures that we were too busy to notice.) My thoughts then turned to my wedding dress. I really love my dress. It was the star of the show that one day, and now it's unceremoniously, anti-climatically, non-purposefully hanging in my closet. Matt wore his wedding suit to a wedding we attended after our own, and that handsome devil can wear it again with impunity countless more times. Bridal gowns, however, are like cicadas: months of waiting, a single (but dramatic) reveal, then a shuffle off into obscurity. Wear it when you're a bride- fine. Wear it any other time- a one-way ticket to Nutville.

Well, Nutville be damned. I have decided that I am going get my mileage out of my dress. I bought my jeans and wear them all the time, and in the same way, I bought that dress and I will wear it again. It won't be a tragic Miss Haversham-esque obsession (I'd probably need more rotting cake for that), but just the chance to enjoy an outfit I like and to get a little mileage out of an investment.

So it begins...Week One in a year of wearing the dress about once a week. If I gain weight/get pregnant/turn into a blueberry, I'll do the best I can and at least wear the sash like a headband.

Here goes nothing!