I have to admit something. The entire tux shopping experience has been a very Bridezilla one for me.
It started with actually getting the time to go and try on some tuxes. Mr. B's schedule is extremely hectic; he works close to 70 hours each week. So it goes without saying he doesn't have a ton of free time, but I kept reminding him that tuxes needed to get done.
And reminding him.
And reminding him.
I started to get really frustrated because I just wanted to check it off the to do list, but he didn't seem to be all that concerned. I knew that this was his job and his call, since it was his outfit, and I tried to stay out of it, but in the end I couldn't deal and called the tux shop and his family to book everyone for a Sunday about a month after I'd brought the subject up.
But you know what? The tux shop we wanted to use told us that the town prom was that weekend, and we were just in time to get stuff booked.
So I win that round.
Lost the next round though, the more important one where we actually pick what the tuxes look like. This is incredibly cheesy to admit, but my original inspiration was James Bond:
I envisioned the guys in a sharp black tux, with a white pleated shirt, black bow tie, and a nice cummerbund. Something classic, gentlemanly, hot, and most notably, NOT a vest. I cannot describe my hatred of vests with a tux. To me, there is nothing that says "cheesy prom rental" like a vest, no matter what color you pick it in. Mr. B agreed with me, and I was relieved, and expected a smooth experience.
Except when everyone tried tuxes on, guess what they liked?
THE DREADED VEST. My dad looks like a waiter in this thing. Or like he walked out of the 1800s. Ugh.
Seriously people, for comparison, check out my dad modeling the cummerbund look:
ITS SO MUCH BETTER. Classier. Less prom-y. Sharp. Sophisticated!
Yeah, no one liked it.
I have to admit I didn't handle this all that well. We were there with our parents and siblings, and I may have quoted the Men's Wearhouse commercial, saying something along the lines of, "Omg Mr. B, don't you know what they say? When everyone's looking at her she's looking at you. Do you really want me to look at you and see a vest?"
Yikes. Not my proudest moment. I was really struggling with the concept of something in the wedding not being exactly my vision. Mr. B's let me do whatever I want so far, and I was having a hard time with the idea that this time, I might not get my way.
Selfish, shameful, I know. Especially since I want to marry him even if he's standing up there in a Weezer tee.
We compromised on neither a vest nor a cummerbund, though Mr. B did order vests to have on hand, just in case he wanted it at the last minute:
I wish I could say I felt good about the compromise, but honestly I wish he'd ordered the "just in case" cummerbund too and let me convince him into wearing it. I don't know why, but I really love that look!
Okay, I'm going to try to give up the control freak tendencies and chill out. My mom gave me an earful about this situation, believe me. But please tell me I'm not alone- where have you had a serious Bridezilla moment?