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Is it possible to be allergic to weddings?

I suppose some people might like to think themselves allergic, incapable of marriage, forever single and like it that way, but thats not really what I mean. Actually it seems I have found myself in a strange predicament. I went dress shopping with my mom yesterday. It was a really wonderful day, just my mother and I. I tried on all kinds of dresses. Some fantastically beautiful, some, ah, not so beautiful. But it was just a gorgeous day, late in summer when the sun is out and you soak it in knowing that it wont be long now until autumn. And it was especially nice to spend time alone with my mom since this is my last week in Detroit.

But back to my strange predicament. It seems I am allergic to something in bridal salons. After trying on dresses my eyes feel like they are burning out of my skull.

Earlier, before I was engaged and in the shops for friends who were, I would laugh about how I must be allergic to weddings. But now it occurs to me... What if I am actually allergic to my wedding dress? Have you ever heard of such a thing? People are going to think that I am the most sentimental bride they have ever seen. My eyes will tear up during the ceremony and continue to tear through the reception when Gareth and I make our entrance, when they bring over the cocktails, when they cut the cake, even when the d.j. plays the chicken polka song. My guests are going to think I am a crying machine.

Lately though I have become more sensitive and sentimental. Normally, I am pretty calm, but facing a week left with my family before I move to London, I find myself breaking down at times when I never would have before. People are constantly coming up to me and telling me how excited I should be. I am, but its not so easy picking up and leaving your family when you are as close to them as I am, even when you are leaving for an exciting new life. In a perfect world my family and my finance would all live in London (lets face it my dream is not for us all to live in Detroit).

6 September 1999, Stacie Lewis