Will our bride-to-be blogger go down the aisle fit or fat?
Lately I've been obsessed with losing weight for my wedding. I guess that's normal. But what's not normal is instead of watching what I eat and working out more consistently, I've been lying on the couch with Fred and chomping whole bags of microwave popcorn (the movie theater butter kind, no less). Am I reverse psychology-ing myself? Maybe I should concentrate on gaining weight for the wedding, and I'll become anorexic.
Colleen and Fred pick out tuxes, admire rings and address invitations.
When I set out as an engaged person, I swore I was the anti-bride. I didn’t want to get swept up in all the hoop-la of planning a wedding—and turn into a national youtube bridezilla phenomenon. I think I’ve done a pretty good job keeping my cool, but it’s impossible (if you’re having a somewhat traditional wedding, like we are) to ignore the details all together. At some point you actually have to do stuff—and that point was this past weekend.
Fred and I finally went to Men’s Wearhouse and picked out his and groomsmen’s tuxes. When I announced that I was clueless to the saleswomen (I’m not exactly a fashion guru), they laughed and made it a pretty painless experience.
At Colleen's engagement party it hits her again—she's getting married.
My sister (aka my matron of honor) threw me a bridal shower this weekend. It was at my house, and for those of you keeping score at home, you know that Fred and I have been remodeling our house in order to sell it. Three weeks before the party the kitchen didn't have floors, we didn't have furniture (all mine was in storage) and the walls hadn't been painted in probably 15 years. I don't know how we did it, but we got the house ready in time and it looked beautiful for the party. Fred even sent two vases of flowers with a card that said, "For your shower. Love your husband." (Enter "awws" or bitter vomiting sounds here.)
Colleen realizes she only has 99 days to finish planning her wedding.
I went online yesterday to check our registry and see what gifts people have bought us so far (one of the many fun perks of registering) and on the Crate and Barrel web site, it thoughtfully gives us a countdown to the big day. In huge red letters it said "99 DAYS until your event." I couldn't believe it.
Whenever anyone asks how wedding planning is going, I give a no-big-deal shrug and say, "We've got nearly everything done." And I used to believe that when I said it, until I saw that we only have 99 days left! We have to get his ring, pick out the tuxes, finalize the cupcakes with the baker, give the DJ our reception instructions and no-play list, get fitted for my dress, buy shoes and jewelry, and probably about 50 more things that I haven't even thought of.
I watched the finale of the Bachelorette last night. WTF? I didn't think she had chemistry with either one of them, but what I really dont understand is how she got engaged to him when she said she was "falling in love" with about 17 other men at the same time. I mean, how did Jesse feel when he had to watch her crying over Graham and Jeremy?
I love bad TV.
I just had a much-needed "girl" weekend with my good friend Blane at my parents' lake house in Savannah. We drank way too much wine, cooked good food, went skinny dipping late at night and stopped just short of giving each other mud masks during the Bachelorette (not because it was too cliche, just because we had too much to drink and forgot).
At one point she said to me, "You know this is the last weekend we're going to have like this in a long time." With me getting married and possibly moving and she and her live-in boyfriend building a house together, we realized that life is about to get pretty hectic and it will be tough to plan "just girl" weekends together.
That kind of sucks.
I never take my engagement ring off. I wear it in the shower, to bed, at the swimming pool–everywhere. This past weekend I finally found a place I couldn’t wear it–in the boxing ring. I took a 3-day boxing bootcamp where I had to wrap my hands, don big boxing gloves and hit the crap out of pads and bags (it was very cathartic).
Friday night, I slipped off my ring and put it in its box, nestled next to my future wedding band. All weekend, I kept getting this nagging feeling that something was wrong. What had I forgotten? Each time I realized it was my ring. I couldn’t believe I was so used to wearing it already.
When I was at my sister’s house visiting a few weeks ago, I was looking through her wedding albums trying to find poses and pictures that I liked so I could show my photographer. One of the albums was a thick black binder with a cute flowery title “Megan and Matt’s Best Laid Plans.” I held it up.
“What’s this?” I asked my sister.
“It was the binder for our wedding– you know, contracts from all our vendors, business cards, the vows; all the details to keep me organized.”
My mouth fell open. “Am I supposed to have one?”
“Well, you have something, right? A folder or something where you keep everything?”
Um, no.
Colleen and her fiance agree that moving is a possibility.
Recently I’ve been getting the itch to move somewhere again, and it hit me: I can’t just pick up and go any time I want to. I’m engaged. I have another person’s feelings and future to consider. That kind of sucks.
I told Fred how I felt a few weeks ago–that if we end up staying in Atlanta for the rest of our lives because we want to, then that would be great. But if we decide now that there’s never even the option of moving, then I will begin to feel trapped– and caged animals are not the nicest creatures.
