Oh, the wedding magazine. The indie DIYers feel superior to them and wouldn't be caught dead in a Barnes & Noble anyway, and the WIC-bride fails to see the problem - what? It's only a magazine, and it has pretty pictures and advice! I tried to tread a middle ground. Whoops.
Somehow, spending $14 (really, Sarah? really? where in your librarian's salary did you see the spare cash for that one?) seemed...unavoidable. It's like porn with an expiration date. There's the anticipation, the guilt-fraught purchase, the hiding it from the significant other (oh no, honey, I'm not incessantly thinking about weddings, not delirious with excitement and lists and ideas and unable to concentrate on work, I'm totally sane and you have nothing to worry about in marrying me), but then you get married and suddenly you have these over-priced paperweights and absolutely no reason to look at them again.
I succumbed to the seemingly practical advice, the simple wedding dresses featured, the oh-so-pretty-and-really-i-could-totally-do-that invitations, and the no visible ads!! in Real Simple Weddings. And I justified this with the reassurance that the purchase included a year's subscription to Real Simple, a magazine I already get and mostly chop up for art projects. Oy. Well, it's done (until fair Martha brings forth her next issue), the wedding porn is bought, and I can only attempt to live with my weakness. At least I have pretty pictures to distract me.
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