Wedding Porn (definition courtesy of Meg/Mrs. Dahlia): Magazines, books, and websites devoted to planning weddings. Typically have elaborate photo galleries. Promotes sense of entitlement and creates need for previously unknown commodities, such as chair diapers. Often promoted by the Wedding Industrial Complex -- businesses, such as florists, dress designers, and banquet halls involved in various aspects of weddings that will often charge more because it is for a wedding.
As the clock winds down, I'm getting wedding porn less frequently. It hasn't completely stopped but the general flood of mostly useless information has slowed down to a steady trickle of an email here, a postcard there, etc.
However, there has been one piece of mail that I've consistently gotten each month since June. (Remember that we got engaged at the end of April.) I am apparently a new subscriber to Horse Illustrated.
No, that is not a typo. I did not mean Sports Illustrated, I meant Horse Illustrated. You know: the big, galloping, neighing, snorting, smelly, kinda frightening but the stuff most kids' dreams are made of creature.
I cannot think of anything tying me to this magazine, except that I started receiving my subscription at the peak of being inundated with wedding porn from other sources with which I had no obvious connection.
In fact, I've only ridden a horse once. I was 8 years old, and it was an uncomfortable, terrifying experience.
To start off, I had a stubborn, unresponsive horse with a tendency to wander away from the rest of the group, increase his pace from a walk to a trot when I pulled on the reins to slow him down, and urinate often (which was a huge deal breaker for 8-year-old Val).
Next, we were in the woods... winding around a hill... on a narrow path... with a sharp drop that overlooked a stream.
To top it off: my saddle was fastened incorrectly.
I have a bad record with ill-fitting sports equipment. The first -- and only -- time I went skiing, my boots weren't tight, and it was icy. Not only would my skis not slow down regardless of how big of a "pizza" wedge I did, but it hurt when I fell. No soft powder here, just solid, frozen ground. Also, the last time I went rollerskating, one of the wheels kept sticking. Another ugly day of pain, followed by another uglier week of bruises.
But I digress.... Anyway, during the entire hour-long ride with Nightmare Horse on Danger Trail, my body was swaying back and forth precariously on my loose saddle. Of course, since it was my first time on a horse, I had no idea that it wasn't supposed to feel this way.... And overhearing the chastising that the stable manager gave the tour guide when she discovered the error upon our return ("What were you thinking?! She could have been seriously injured. That little girl could have died, Sarah!) only made matters worse.
Needless to say, my Horse Illustrated magazines end up promptly recycled the day that I get them. Although I may try my hand at riding again during our mini-honeymoon, I will not be an equestrian fanatic any time soon.
I cannot think of anything tying me to this magazine, except that I started receiving my subscription at the peak of being inundated with wedding porn from other sources with which I had no obvious connection.
In fact, I've only ridden a horse once. I was 8 years old, and it was an uncomfortable, terrifying experience.
To start off, I had a stubborn, unresponsive horse with a tendency to wander away from the rest of the group, increase his pace from a walk to a trot when I pulled on the reins to slow him down, and urinate often (which was a huge deal breaker for 8-year-old Val).
Next, we were in the woods... winding around a hill... on a narrow path... with a sharp drop that overlooked a stream.
To top it off: my saddle was fastened incorrectly.
I have a bad record with ill-fitting sports equipment. The first -- and only -- time I went skiing, my boots weren't tight, and it was icy. Not only would my skis not slow down regardless of how big of a "pizza" wedge I did, but it hurt when I fell. No soft powder here, just solid, frozen ground. Also, the last time I went rollerskating, one of the wheels kept sticking. Another ugly day of pain, followed by another uglier week of bruises.
But I digress.... Anyway, during the entire hour-long ride with Nightmare Horse on Danger Trail, my body was swaying back and forth precariously on my loose saddle. Of course, since it was my first time on a horse, I had no idea that it wasn't supposed to feel this way.... And overhearing the chastising that the stable manager gave the tour guide when she discovered the error upon our return ("What were you thinking?! She could have been seriously injured. That little girl could have died, Sarah!) only made matters worse.
Needless to say, my Horse Illustrated magazines end up promptly recycled the day that I get them. Although I may try my hand at riding again during our mini-honeymoon, I will not be an equestrian fanatic any time soon.
