Kristen Henry: Why I spent $1000 'proposing' to my bridesmaids

Kristen admitted she felt 'stupid' after falling for this online wedding trend. Photo / Getty Images

I stupidly fell for the online trend of proposing to your Bridesmaids. Good news is, I have an amazing photo for social. Can't pay my mortgage this month, but you know, YOLO!

I'm sure the bank will understand.

Instagram would have you believe that gone are the days when you give your Bestie a buzz and check they'll stand beside you when you say, "I do". Brides in 2018 (in my case, 2019) are going to extreme lengths to surprise and delight when asking friends to be a part of the bridal party, aka the "Bridesmaids proposal".

Or as I like to call it, the "new way social media is convincing you to spend money on something trivial, for the photos".

From personalised cards to a coffee mug with "will you be my bridesmaid" printed at the bottom. To engraved pieces of jewellery and surprise weekends away to "plan". It's a trend that's a bit like the rabbit hole our friend Alice wound up in — you just keep falling.

You head out for a nice card, next thing you know your fiance is asking where that $987 ($1075) in the savings account has mysteriously gone? Down the rabbit hole babe, down the bloody rabbit hole.

I gathered my friends for a "lunch" at Canberra's new IT restaurant, which was "lunch with a question", but they didn't know it.

Their husbands and kids came too. With a table of nine on me for lunch, I should have popped the question there and called it a day.

Nope. Just call me Alice. Still falling.

Post lunch I whisked the nine away to a secret location, I reserved a table at the bar where my fiance and I and first met. I organised huge foil balloons in the shape of question marks to be brought out to the table by the bar staff.

I'd written personalised letters, had a bottle of Moet brought to the table once they'd squealed and said yes. Then made them cart giant balloons around for the rest of the night to various locations for photos.

It wasn't hard to fit three balloons, one bride, three bridesmaids and a baby in car. Piece of (wedding) cake.*

$987 ($1075) dollars later, my socials look amazing. My fiance warned if I didn't curb the spending then the wedding would be in jeopardy, but his voice was muffled by the giant foil balloons in his face in the back seat so again, YOLO.

At the thought of asking your gals to be bridesmaids, you feel excitement which transforms to pressure because you want so badly to create an everlasting memory. When you see on socials all the amazing things other brides are doing you want to do something cool too.

Then it snowballs and suddenly, you're carting giant balloons around Canberra's national institutions and strangers are asking your group, "Whose birthday is it?" as they try to figure out what the hell is happening.

Turns out, it wasn't the balloons that made the moment. Or the delicious sizzling beef at lunch. It was the girl's reactions; the sound of their squeals which ring in my ears, the way they held me in the teary hug when they accepted. The glorious plans we sat and made together.

Priceless plans and feelings that are trickier to capture on socials than the giant foil question mark balloons. Go figure.

*This is a lie. My friend with a baby immediately tried to get rid of the balloon.