So…this is me:
No muss, no fuss. Just regular me. I’m 35, I’m a grad student, I live in Colorado. So this is what I usually look like, when I’m not paying attention- and I hardly ever am.
This is me, when I choose to dress up:
Now this happens less frequently, but all the same, I clean up pretty good. And I like getting dressed up. I do. Love it, in fact. I love hair and makeup and pretty things. But that takes me a lot of time to do, and one thing I tend not to have a ton of, is time. I’m a grad student- and here’s my life:
So I don’t have a lot of what people call “free” time. I teach, I have another job, I volunteer, and oh yeah, I’m in classes as well. I also live here:
and there are very few people who look like me (specifically, mid-30s, “plus-sized,” and African American). This means, I usually exist in some state of anomie, whether low-grade and resigned, or, as of late, fluctuating between mid-range depression and full-scale rage (yeah, it really is like that).
Now, I volunteered for this assignment, so don’t cry too much for me, Argentina. It’s a little rough, but I’m almost done being chained to this place, and then maybe I can move somewhere else. Plus, I met my Sweet Intended here:
So all in all, not completely terribles, you know? Actually pretty good, all told. But-
Sweet Intended is not a planner-type person, and despite a political feminist stance, the living the values thing has a small gap (tiny, almost. Really, hardly noticeable- right). So I am planning this thing, all by myself. My mom is not Martha (look up not Martha, she may be there). Most of my friends are either feminists who think I’m crazy for planning a wedding at all, especially to a boy; or crazy bridesmaid-zilla types who are living vicariously through me (I am probably being unkind and hyperbolic here, dear reader, so that just shows you how unreliable a narrator I am). I clearly have unresolved issues, but we’ll get to that. So then, uninvolved family, weird friends, all alone in the world…
Oh yeah, so the last thing before I go, is that I want to plan a wedding. For me. To this man. And I wouldn’t normally mind my circumstances. I am a control freak, and often deny people the opportunity to help me. But right now, because of all my other pressures, I feel like I’m drowning. And when I feel that way, I turn to work. And since my work involves all three categories we’ve briefly discussed (race, gender, sexuality), I am noting my stories, my triumphs, from now until the wedding, in the hopes that it will provide a toolkit for future brides, and some sort of analysis that will make all this work, and all these tears, and all this bitching, worth it.