Disclaimer: I think I'm still grumpy. I promise I can be a nice person sometimes.
Ok, as I have sort of confessed to before, I love LOVE LOVE blog stalking. I have many levels of blogs I read. Blogs of Friends. Blogs of people I found on friend's websites and now still read (mildly creepy) Blogs of people I found on those people's sites that I read even though I have no connection at all. (very creepy.)
I really am suffering from not have twelve victorian lit. novels to read every week. Does it show?
Furthermore, my blogs are divided into categories- Very Well Written, Entertaining, So Poorly Written as to Become Entertaining, and Cheesy Mormon Bride Blogs of the Perpetually Blessed.
Now that I've laid out the basics, lets switch gears.
Dan and I celebrated our one year anniversary, a few days ago, (March 15) and the next day my mom and I were reminiscing about my wedding day. This inevitably led to a conversation about "Bridezilla" Because I am Mormon and got married in the Salt Lake Temple, the temple and the surrounding grounds were COVERED in brides the day of my wedding. I didn't mind, we all navigated around each other and I got to check out everyone Else's cool dresses. Except for Bridezilla. She wouldn't let anyone else in the Bride's room (the room you go to after your wedding to fix your hair and such) because she needed the whole room for her make-up. She somehow managed to wear a temple-dress with cleavage. Her fiancee/husband had his very own diamond engagement ring. We were in a changing room together at one point, and i couldn't help but notice that her underwear was stained orange from fake tanner. My favorite part was she got very upset at me at one point. Apparently we were spending too much time on the little podium in front of the temple, and she made a big point of standing behind my photographer, hand on her hip, glaring at me and Dan while we dipped and kissed. I thought it was all very funny, and she has turned into sort of a movie-character in my mind. Too entertainingly bizarre to be real.
Of course you should all know where this is going. I found her blog. It was a surreal experience for me, because I was pretty sure that I had made Bridezilla up, a funny little anecdote to tell at girl's nights when we inevitably get around to talking about our weddings. But no. She is real. I don't really "read" her blog. It's mostly pictures of her and her husband eating at fancy restaurants and sharing fake tanner (kidding). It's one of those times when I marvel at the powers of the Internet. Behold Bridezilla has a name, a house, and a collection of dresses from Shabby Apple.
The worst part of this experience? It doesn't make me any less judgemental. You know when you judge someone and then you learn more about them, and they become more lovable and you even think you could be friends? Not so. Bridezilla is now Wifezilla, and I can totally see her in her new role. Glaring at some poor girl whose trying on the last pair of designer jeans in her size, hand on her hip at the dressing room door. Hoping her victim hurries up so she and her husband can make it for their reservation at the Cheesecake Factory.