...Because it isn't a good show. At least not if you care about your time. Problem is, it's always on in my house. Between my gal and her weird, new, out-of-nowhere obsession with white dresses, and my roommate's new aspirations of being a wedding planner, I can't escape this Godawful show.
Let me try to explain it to those of you that have never heard of it. A bride (generally a lady, sometimes not?) goes to the Bride-clothes store with a group of her shrews and usually her madre, and she gets into different wedding dresses and everyone says what they think. Makes for riveting television, let me tell you. I have no idea how it ends, because somehow I am always able to pull myself away from its black taffeta hole. I guess in a lot of cases the bride ends up getting a dress.
Harmless enough for whatever estrogen-laden cable channel it's on, but of course they take it a step too far. Last week, the bride's mother (who never had a proper wedding of her own) decided to slip into a wedding dress that she was going to wear to her daughter's wedding. That sick, sick woman. In another case, the groom came along for the ride, and was making the bridesmaids try on hideous clothes. Bridesmaid A, the bride's sister, was reduced to tears! Tears!!
TEARS!!!!
To pay him back, the stylist or costume man or tailor or whatever the dude is called made the GROOM squeeze into a dress. I managed to escape from such an intriguing story line because I had something better to do, like take a crap. Actually, now that I think about it, the show may have acted as a catalyst for my BM. That shit was flowing.
And now that you're thinking about poop, you have an accurate depiction of what "Say Yes to the Dress" is really like.
