So here I am, on a cold autumn day in Melbourne. I’ve had a few big things happen in my life over the last few years, some of them anticipated, some absolutely not. It really does feel like my world has down a complete 180 shift and nothing really looks the same. To add to all of this, I recently sold my apartment. The significance of this isn’t lost on me. It was the first place I could really call my own. The first place that I felt truly safe and secure. I would walk in the front door and immediately feel a sensation of warmth and serenity which would immerse over me. It made me feel proud that I, independently, on my own had secured this place and was the paying the mortgage by myself like the independent woman that I was, or am. I mean, am I still an independent woman even though I’m giving something of mine up to move forward with someone else?
I guess this feeling is also compounded with my upcoming nuptials. I’ve been very honest in the past with expressing that I never thought I would get married in my lifetime. I’ve also struggled with the expectations that come along with being a ‘bride’ and a ‘wife’. I suppose this questioning was one of the reasons why I didn’t feel the need to even consider marriage. But as time has gone on, I’ve felt more comfortable within my choices and being able to do things my own way. I’ve started to understand that there is no one rule for how to be a bride or a wife, or anything else; that I get to make this up as I go along.
So as you can expect I’ve made my own choices within all of this. I’ve chosen to keep my surname, which is something I will never compromise on; and also something that I hope more brides will consider and reflect on in time to come. By doing this I acknowledge that I am not and will never be someone else’s property; that my identity is my own and my life won’t mould into someone else’s legacy. This is my personal choice and I own it whole heartedly. But the most surprising choice I’ve made which has garnered the most questioning and dismay has been my decision to wear a suit on my wedding day… SHOCK..HORROR.
Honestly, I’ve had some of the most bizarre responses to this apparent revelation. One person responded with ‘what… a suit? You mean… a suit..suit?!’. The looks of utter puzzlement have been classic. But this choice in particular is probably my favourite decision that I’ve made within this entire process. The concept of why a bride can’t choose to wear something other than a dress on her wedding day is somewhat unfathomable to me. It alludes to the fact that there is no choice and that all women, all brides are the same. That there is no individuality allowed within weddings. That we must follow the rules and traditions to a tee.
The truth is, I’ve never been great at following the rules or towing the line. I believe that being true to myself does not exclude me from being a bride. When people ask me the question of why I’ve chosen this, my answer is why not?! I can probably count the number of times on one hand that I’ve worn a dress this year; and it isn’t many. So why then on a day with such significance, would I choose to feel uncomfortable and not be true to myself. Why is it considered so un-bride like?! Is it that wearing a pant suit makes me less feminine? Do I need to appear more virginal and demure? I guess I’ll never know.
Reflecting on all of these things I can see how far I have come within just feeling comfortable within myself and owning my choices. I can see the journey I’ve taken to accepting who I am and not trying to fit myself into someone else’s mould. I am doing things my way. No longer am I that commitment phobe who ran as far as she could at the mere sniff of marriage or a wedding. But I also still maintain elements of my independence and my free thinking which have enabled me to confidently make different choices without fearing the consequences of what this appears to look like to others.
I blog for Change. 