In the bleak midwinter of 2025 my now better half and I decided on our wedding date, October 4th. The date would be exactly one year after our engagement. It felt perfect and I instantaneously felt a surge of joy. You see, I’ve always been an autumnal creature and the idea of getting married as the air turned crisp and the leaves burned orange felt very on brand for me. But suddenly whiplash hit me, this date did not actually give me a lot of time to prepare. I’ve heard about brides who plan their weddings years in advance and I had just nine months to do it?! The pressure to become the best looking version of myself, the perfect “bridal me” hit me hard.
It didn’t help that at the exact same time, life cast me into a period of full-blown turmoil and upheaval that had struck not one, but multiple of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs (that’s a story for another rainy day). To be completely honest, I was at my lowest. And because I apparently like to pour salt on my own wounds, I did what any burnt-out bride would do: I frantically googled “pre-wedding beauty routines”, “how to glow up fast”, and “bridal beauty timeline”.
Within minutes, I was spiraling. I even downloaded TikTok (big mistake) and devoured every bit of advice I could find like a ravenous bird of prey. And I mean everything, from what IV drips to use, to the best 15-step skincare regimens (I’m normally a 5-step kinda girl), extreme ab workouts and which laser facials could transform my enlarged pores and acne scars into a glass-looking canvas.
After a few weeks of unabashed self-ridicule, I finally snapped out of it and started pondering: Why is there this expectation to become a whole new sparkly and perfect version of oneself on your wedding day? Needles tend to make me faint, so why am I even considering a UV drip? And does anyone actually talk about how much all this shit actually costs? When I added it up, the American psycho-esque glow-up I’d envisioned had a budget that nearly rivaled the cost of the wedding itself. Deep down, I started to realise that this whole shabang just wasn’t it and wasn’t me.
I didn’t want to spend months chasing something that was unattainable and winding up both miserable and broke. I wanted to feel and look like myself, just a little more glowy, snatched and well-rested. So as someone with a long history of anxiety, I decided to finally listen to my therapist and try to shift my focus. My goal was no longer to be flawless, it was to be calm and grounded, so I made a vow to take care of myself. I wanted to be a Bridechiller, not a Bridezilla.