Bridezillas are like multicar pileups on the road to happy-ever-after. And the rest of us can’t help but pull over to peek at the crash site.
Bridezillas are easy game because they feverishly sabotage their own big day, stomping over their family, friends and vendors — breathing their mighty tongues of fire.
I take a certain satisfaction that every bridezilla story seems much worse than my own. In 1986 I emerged from my prewedding jitters long enough to criticize the polyester content of the tablecloths in the reception room. Fortunately a thoughtful catering manager set me straight. “You’re getting married in two hours. Get over it,” he said — and I did.
I now dispense a version of this wisdom to bridezillas who write to me for advice. Weddings have little to do with marriage. Brides who obsess over details and who are unkind to people in the process alienate their friends and family and run the risk of missing the best part, which is the spirit and joy of the day.
Unfortunately, the “Bridezilla” phenomenon doesn’t seem to be going away, and now grooms are getting into the act.
Can “Frankengrooms” be far behind?
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Amy Dickinson’s advice column, Ask Amy, appears daily in the Tribune.
adickinson@tribune.com
