Review: Bridal ExpOH!

Terri Psiakis is shocked to discover there's more to planning a wedding than meets the eye – some of it meets the breast.

Ok, you can laugh at me now. Point, stare and loudly guffaw. I deserve it.

I went to a bridal expo.

And you know why? Not for tips, ideas or advice for my May wedding. No, I went for the same reason anyone ever goes to an expo: I went to get free stuff. And suit ideas for the groomsmen. But mainly free stuff.

My idea of what might be available for free was seriously challenged by the first exhibit at the expo: porta-loos. Odd, I thought, but I guess nothing spoils an outdoor wedding for your guests like making them cop a squat behind a tree.

While I was bemused by the expo's first port of call, so to speak, the Bloke clearly had no idea whatsoever what a bridal expo might entail, as evidenced by his first question when we arrived: "Do you think we'll see any fights today?" Sure he may have been confused by the fact that the expo was being held at Melbourne's Telstra Dome, the site of many a mighty footy clash. But I doubt very much that would have done much to inspire anyone to throw a punch.

Unless of course, someone snagged the last cupcake. Because cupcakes were pretty much the only free stuff on offer, thanks to about seven wedding cake companies keen to promote their wares. And competition for a cupcake was fierce, no doubt due to the fact that most of the brides-to-be had already started their pre-wedding diets and were seriously calorie-deprived.

There may have been a lack of free stuff but there were more than enough fliers and discount vouchers to go around. At every turn, someone shoved another piece of paper in my face to the point where I started walking with my bag held out in front of me so everything could just go straight in. Hence I didn't realize til I got home that I’d inadvertently accepted fliers for plastic surgery.

Yeah, because the first thing I want to do after someone proposes to love me forever just the way I am is change everything. According to the flier, my wedding checklist should include normal things like buying a dress and booking a photographer but I should also set aside time to re-shape my nose, siphon the fat from my body and get a new set of breasts.

Yes, breasts. Because nothing says "I want to spend the rest of my life with you" like going from a C-cup to a double-D. Although I guess brand-new boozies give a completely new meaning to the vow of "to have and to hold." Yes, from this day forward my chest will forever look like it's trying to escape the rest of my body and will appear around corners a good five minutes before the rest of me does. In the words of The Beatles: will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64 with the norks of a 25-year-old?

Interestingly, the flier didn't mention male plastic surgery. Which is a shame, because what could make a wedding night more memorable than a Dirk Diggler-esque enhancement on the groom?

Just as well I didn't put that question to the Bloke while we were walking around Telstra Dome – he was too busy getting right into the swing of the expo thing: "Look, this guy won best wedding photographer two years in a row…and he's got free chocolates!"

In the space of two hours we stuffed ourselves with cupcakes, decided on suit hire and laughed at the ubiquitous frou-frou. If only I'd cottoned on to the plastic surgery fliers. I would have shoved them into a porta-loo.

-Terri Psiakis