\”Are you going to grow your hair out for that wedding?\”

Obviously my stylist required to know, because she banded there with scissors. But members of the family? Dress shop employees? After the hundredth time telling people \”No,\” it had a little tiresome.

The question, by itself, isn't offensive or stupid. It should be just small talk. In the end, it's incredibly uncommon to determine short-haired brides, especially represented in mainstream wedding-related media; it's obvious why people ask.

But you will find a great deal of preconceived notions about weddings and femininity and the all-importantness of the one-day event packed into that deceptively innocent sentence.

Under the surface, here's what I hear people asking, variously: How much work and sacrifice are you willing to put in have your ideal day? Are you aware that your big day ought to be the number-one consideration for those decisions you make now? Don't you think long locks are prettier? How feminine are you? How feminine do you consider a bride ought to be? Not want to look like a genuine bride? That do you want to be in your wedding day?

If there's anyone on the planet who's supposed to be more feminine than a bride, I'm not sure who it might be; brides are, all at one time, asked to embody everything society considers to become traditionally feminine. They ought to have long hair and beautiful faces and petite silhouettes; they should wear dresses within the most delicate color, and those dresses should be elaborate and dear, implying the bride should not be too active or aggressive.

A bride is not, in her most traditional incarnation, an individual who moves, does, acts. She is a person to be looked upon; practical wonder to behold. Indeed, she's even traditionally given away, shepherded gently but authoritatively by other people, a beautiful treasure to become passed in one man to a different.

Femininity and also the production and gratifaction thereof on my wedding day was on my mind through the aesthetic decision-making process. I chose a relatively cheap, short wedding gown but two different pairs of high-priced designer and brand-name heels to put on in the ceremony and reception, one pair impossibly high and stupid an additional, very comfortable, kitten heel. I received my nails done, but I did my very own makeup. I wore a veil, but not one which went over my face. I did not grow out my hair.

In fact, it was not until the weeks after our wedding that I idly thought I would enjoy having long hair again; after a multi-month growing-out experiment, I gave up and headed back to the hairdresser. I merely feel better having short hair. Personally i think a lot more like myself. (Company, I do have years of long-hairedness to compare it all with.)

I realize that I feel differently today about how exactly I perform femininity than I have at any other amount of time in my life; I'm not sure basically should chalk this up to being in a long-term partnership, to being nearly 30 years old, in order to increasingly mixed up in feminist and reproductive justice communities. Whether it's a combination of all of these things.

I do think spending eight months planning a wedding forced me to invest eight months confronting gender in a way Irrrve never have been asked to do before; weddings bring out the best and worst in friends, family members and strangers who alternately encourage both conformity and individuality and who mysteriously feel entitled to a reason in either case for every decision. I felt like all day, I was being inspired to make a statement by what type of woman I was, whether which was asserting my love of short hair or leaving half the decorating decisions to Patrick.

These days, I'm more likely than ever to reject a regular performance of aesthetic femininity-I have a tendency to choose no makeup, baseball hats and sneakers as my default and have all but abandoned shaving my legs with any regularity-but also am more likely to get dolled up for special events or nighttime outings. I wear more and more adventurous and silly makeup, but on fewer occasions than previously; I actually own foundation. I've stopped buying beautiful shoes that hurt my feet because I'd prefer to be able to physically maintain my husband on our big nights out than look pretty sitting in a chair. I've always been keen on cowboy boots, however I pair all of them with absolutely everything, because it means I'm never slipping or stumbling or splurging for a cab at the last minute.

I have to believe that this stems in no small part from feeling by no means obligated to be \”ready\” just in case I meet a potential boyfriend, and I'm not particularly proud of that. I wish I possibly could say that I conquered society's oppressive beauty requirements all due to the sheer vagina-induced strength of my infinitely powerful feminist will, however the truth is, I did previously dress up when I didn't want to because I thought I would meet a guy. Now, I've met the man. I meet him at the start of every day, wooing him with morning breath and a lopsided faux-hawk, and that he seems perfectly fine by using it.

I'm also simply older and wiser than my formerly more feminine selves. I have more work experience and education than I did after i would be a lipstick-and-heels-obsessed 21 years old; Personally i think more self-assured and assured about the a few things i have to give you the world intellectually and professionally. I have actual evidence that human beings find my work and skills important and valuable it doesn't matter what I look like-after all, I am a freelance writer who has only physically met a small portion of the people who sign her checks.

But while I'm in post-wedding baseball hats and baggy harem pants, feeling less pressure than ever to become whatever society imagines for a woman, you will find surely women who believe their wifely status requires them to be ever more feminine. Specifically, there are the folks on Wives With Beehives, who spend their days pretending to live in the 1950's, fetishizing a united states past they appear to achieve the shallowest possible knowledge of, as to believe the editing and presentation from the show. There's a lot of baking from scratch, cooking and cleaning to the nth degree, and ensuring that their home, hair, dress and makeup are perfectly coiffed when Hubby comes with the door.

I have tried this kind of thing once in a while blue moon-being the perfectly coiffed wife, putting dinner up for grabs, wearing an apron-because it appears kitschy and fun, and because it seems like an interesting experiment in seeing if acting or dressing a certain way can make me \”feel\” in a certain style about as being a wife or woman. However it usually turns out to be frustrating and exhausting. It's rarely as satisfying to me as cooking dinner along with my hubby, or vegging out to a few hours of delivered pizza and Downton Abbey with him around the couch.

But there's still something about self-policing my own femininity, within my apron-and-heels moments, which i find adventurous. Since i cut back time than I have before wondering if I'm to be the appropriate woman, or projecting the best version of sexuality or femininity to the world at large, it's a fun thought experiment to see if I can \”do\” traditional ladyness in my private life at home. I am not saying I really get exactly what the Wives With Beehives crowd is after-indeed, it seems like the worst type of \”I choose my wholly uninvestigated, oppressive choice!\” decision-making-but I do recognize that I'm more willing than ever to both accept and reject traditional aesthetic performances of femininity.

Whether I've getting married, or being partnered, to credit or blame for this is really a question I haven't yet had the opportunity to reply to.