Even though having my father escort me down the aisle was one of my favorite memories from my first wedding, the second time I got married, I felt it was important to not make A Big Deal out of the aisle walk. I thought I'd make the aisle walk alone — an independent woman making her own life choice — or walk down the aisle with my partner — like, no biggie.
Either way, no one was “giving me away” this time. That was for sure.
Then two things happened:
1. The stairs
We were getting married in my mother-in-law's backyard, and she got so excited about it that she LITERALLY BUILT STAIRS FOR ME. Real talk: She did not “have stairs built” she was out there with her husband pouring concrete and installing railings ‘n shit. Then she dubbed them “the bridal stairs,” and talked to me about her visions of me making a grand entrance while her son and everyone else stood at the bottom, watching me walking majestically down them in all my bridal glory.
Okay, no problem. In fact, I dig the excitement level here. I'll just abandon the walking in together plan and walk down the aisle on my own then.
2. The shoes
It was nigh impossible to find the right shoes to match my ridiculous dress. My bridesmaid Kimmy happens to be one of the best stylists in LA, and even she was struggling. Until she found the most absurd-but-perfect pair in existence. I wanted to hate them the moment she pointed them out, in fact, I kind of did. But then when I tried them on with the dress I realized she was right. No other shoes fit like those did. And no other shoes have ever been so hard to walk in. When I purchased them, the man at the store said, “You know, these are the ONLY pair of shoes here that were used on the actual runway show.” And I shot back, “No shit! That makes sense. These literally only belong on the runway.”
Shoes + stairs + grass = Megan walks like a newborn baby deer
This was me:
Much like in that runway fail video, I realized that I had no choice but to have someone walk me down the aisle. But when I really thought about it, what I truly needed was just some support. And then it clicked…
I could ask my dad to support me down the aisle. To literally do the thing he had done for most of my life: help me, guide me, be a strong support system when I feel a little wobbly, and make me laugh when I feel awkward.
So I asked my dad if he would help to support me down the aisle. And he happily did so. Even if it meant he had to walk extreeeemely, painfully slow down those stairs. Even if it meant he didn't get to technically “give me away” like he did last time. Instead, he walked me right to the end of the aisle, right to where my mom was sitting, and I hugged them both and walked the remaining steps to Mike (slowly, cautiously) on my own.
And then I took off those fucking shoes the moment Kimmy wasn't looking.
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Comments on Ask your parent to “support you down the aisle”
Those shoes!!!!! Oh my god I need them!!!!
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