Say Stress to the Dress

I am a grown-ass woman. I have degrees. I’ve won awards. I can go on national television. I can do home repair. I’m generally pretty confident in myself and my appearance. So why is it that some 22-year-old working in a formal shop can make me feel about as insecure as a teenager in front of her first crush?

Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself.

The wedding is slated for October. It will be a very simple affair – a private outdoor ceremony in the Smoky Mountains followed by a dinner celebration at our favorite restaurant back in Atlanta. No pomp. No circumstance. No stress.

Well, other than the dress.

I’m not really particular about the “look” of the wedding, but it is important to Brock. Even though I still have several months, I wanted to try to find a dress today. Partly because I had a day off work but mostly to leave myself plenty of time in case it became more difficult than expected. I asked a friend to accompany me and to act as a guard against those scary 22-year-old dress sellers.

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Not the shoes I’m wearing but they’re good for a laugh:)

For my first wedding, I ventured into a Dillard’s alone and found a prom dress for $98. It had a satin bodice with some contoured seams and a long chiffon skirt. It was simple, elegant and cheap. It was perfect.

I wanted something similar again. It’s difficult with second weddings. I chose a ring, a dress and a wedding location the first time around that fit me. I don’t want to repeat that but those same aesthetics still appeal. My idea was to go to the mall and scour the racks of formal (non-wedding) dresses and hope for a similar find.

My friend suggested that a stand alone store that specialized in wedding attire first. She had been in there previously and remembered that they had some budget-friendly items.

I felt like I was walking in to some five-star hotel designed by Disney. There were glitter and rhinestones everywhere. The place was full of employees, dressed head to toe in black, scurrying around to attend to their charges. There were brides everywhere, most accompanied by their moms, choosing dresses and accessories. Everything was over the top and designed to make women feel like princesses. Along with the princess price tag. After talking with the consultant (I’m assuming that’s the proper term), we learned that their dresses started at $2,000.

Started. At. $2,000.

Who buys these things? After saying our “thank you’s,” we promptly left and got into my car (current value – not much more than $2,000).

After touring a few department stores at the mall, we knew we were on the right track. Our last stop? Dillard’s. And they came through again. Even in that more relaxed environment, I was still tense. Sometimes, I don’t understand myself. I’m completely fine trying on bikinis. No sweat. A formal dress? Yeah, that brings out all of the body insecurities. I feel silly in super feminine things with my athletic build and casual nature. It can be frustrating to have arms and shoulders that burst seams and to have trouble fitting my lats into a dress. Would it be out of place to get married in a bathing suit in the mountains in October? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

To complicate matters, I’m weird about spending money. Especially on myself. I feel guilty. Somehow I don’t feel like I’m worthy of spending money on. It’s frugality mixed with a dash of neurosis. I wish I could find a way to keep my thrifty ways but nix the guilt.

I only ended up trying on one dress. It’s formal but not bridal, which apparently is good for a 90% discount, as it was only $200. It’s simple and elegant and relatively cheap. But it’s different than before. It fits my frame, showing off my muscle in a flattering way and the sleeveless style gives my shoulders endless room to move. I can borrow jewelry from my friend and I should be able to find shoes once the weather warms up. Mission accomplished.

So now the dress is hanging in the closet waiting for its fall debut and my blood pressure is slowly returning to normal. I should be okay now as long as those 22-year-old dress consultants stay away:)

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 3

 

Our blended family:)
Our blended family:)

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 1

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 2

 

I was planning on moving in with Brock in June, once my lease had expired. Maddy, my elderly cat from my former life, moved in a bit early. I had asked Brock to look in on her while I was in San Antonio over spring break. He elected to go ahead and move her into his place. Brock had never owned a cat and wasn’t really a ‘cat person.’ Plus, we had Tiger to be concerned about. He is an amazing and very obedient dog that is not aggressive in the slightest, but he does outweigh Maddy by a good 90 pounds. Plus, at the time of her arrival into his home, he was still full of boundless (and clumsy) puppy energy.

Five Reasons My Cat is Smarter Than Me

Brock was amazing at orchestrating their introduction. He began by studying Cesar Millan’s recommendations for animal introductions, especially since Tiger had already been dog whispered. We brought Maddy over in her crate and set her on the floor. Brock used his body language to claim the cat as his while Tiger was allowed to sniff around. Maddy had known and loved dogs; she lived with 3 in our previous life. However, she was older and had also been traumatized by multiple moves and time spent around a growing baby. She was hesitant. But eventually, Brock and Tiger both won her over. She is now more social and less fearful than she has ever been. She has learned how to relax and trust others. Some parallels with her momma, perhaps? 🙂

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Brock and I sometimes get irritable with each other. We get frustrated and occasionally feel misunderstood. This doesn’t happen often. (And, when it does, it’s usually about me feeling overwhelmed. Go figure.) We always work through the issues. It takes some time. I usually have to release some emotion first and it takes him time to find the right words. But eventually we get there.

He is a fire building machine -  a great asset on camping trips!
He is a fire building machine – a great asset on camping trips!

It’s strange. Now that I know that a disagreement doesn’t mean he’s about to walk out the door, I like them. No, that doesn’t mean that I like to argue. I don’t; it’s not my nature. What I like is that it feels real. My ex and I didn’t agree on everything, but we rarely had to deliberately and methodically work things out. In retrospect, I think he actively avoided conflict and, with my anxiety, I was all too happy not to rock the boat. I have had to learn all over again to speak up when I need to and to be prepared to work it all the way through. I also have learned from Brock’s humility; he is always ready to admit when he is wrong or doesn’t know something. He has helped me see the world through the eyes of a constant learner, leaving my ego checked at the door.

Pardon Me Ego, I Need to Get Through

I am happier now than I ever have been. I don’t have the paralyzing fear of losing Brock like I did my ex. I’m secure in my attachment. I am more aware of our “individualness” within the partnership. I said about my ex,

“He had become fully enmeshed in my existence. Teasing the strings of him out of me would take time and a patient hand. I needed to find out where he ends and I begin.”

I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way again. I don’t if that is good or bad, but it is. That individuality is what creates some of the conflict, but it also means that we are each healthy and functional in are own rights. I feel like we are both conscious in our decisions and our choices. We are together because we want to be together, not because we are afraid to be apart. And that feels amazing.

It's difficult to see in the lighting, but these are two trees that have grown together at points.
It’s difficult to see in the lighting, but these are two trees that have grown together at points.

What Set Theory Can Teach Us About Marriage

It’s been interesting during the progression of our entire relationship – I went from acting married with short-term dates (not intentionally, it was just what I was used to) to being a step behind Brock during our courtship. He said, “I love you” first, he started using “our” first, and he was the one to initiate a real talk about marriage first. I am so thankful that we moved slowly. Too fast and he would have probably shut down and I would not have had the needed time to heal and move forward myself. It has been great to enjoy each stage without worrying about what the next has to offer.

Flowers in the Vitamix. That's how we roll:)
Flowers in the Vitamix. That’s how we roll:)

We had talked about marriage, more in the abstract than anything, at various points throughout our relationship. Neither one of us felt a strong need to legalize our relationship. We had no internal or external pressure to wed. We had been exclusive and committed for years. We shared a home and a joint account for home expenses (don’t worry  – I still have my own separate accounts too:) ). I could tell that Brock was wanting more. We completed paperwork to give the other the power to make medical decisions. We became emergency contacts and beneficiaries. But still, he felt like there was more.

Removing the “Re”

Last August, we were visiting friends on the Georgia coast. (Let’s Go On An Adventure) We took a day trip over to Cumberland Island. While we were walking along the deserted dunes together, he asked, “Would you ever want to get married again?” I pulled a Lisa and gave him a non-answer, talking about how I wasn’t opposed to marriage and I had liked being married, etc., etc. He asked again. I said the same things. He asked a third time. By this time, we were spread out on the beach on our respective towels. I turned towards him, realization finally breaking through my defenses.

“Yes, I would.”

“Good,” he replied, “because I already made an appointment to go look at rings.”

The note that appeared on my desk a few days later.
The note that appeared on my desk a few days later.

I could have chosen to stay walled off. I could have decided to never risk love again. But life on those terms isn’t worth it to me. I’d rather love again and risk the loss than live with the certainty of being alone. I’m ready to embrace love with all its beautiful imperfections and glorious uncertainties. I choose to love.

My boys:)
My boys:)

With my ex, cohabitation, engagement, and marriage all felt about the same. That’s not the case this time. Mainly because of how it has impacted Brock – he has been much more vulnerable and open since that day. He never thought he would get married and, now that it is going to happen, he is able to relax more and reveal more. As for me? It just feels right. I love this man and I want that known. I love how we challenge each other and encourage the other to learn and grow. We have both learned from our pasts and have made different choices this time around. I do want to be married again. This time for real.

Tamely = team + familyThe memory card is already full of our adventures and I look forward to adding many more!
Tamely = team + family
The memory card is already full of our adventures and I look forward to adding many more!

 

Why I Never Want to Get REmarried

Marriage
Marriage (Photo credit: auddess)

Remarriage

I recently met a fellow divorcee and runner over breakfast in a hotel lobby. We bonded over talk about our respective divorces and our motivations to run the race we had both completed the previous morning. Eventually, she asked the inevitable question: “Do you want to get remarried?”

I bristled. Read the rest on the Huffington Post.