Thelaurenbell is getting married in about six weeks. No longer will she be thelaurenbell. No longer will she have most of her savings (the pizza truck will be worth it, though). No longer will she have much of her already questionable sanity - at least for the few days leading up to THE BIG EVENT.
Or, that's what she has been led to believe. She really won't have any money, and she really will be giving up that sweet, succinct last name, but the whole mind-losing thing, well, I've known crazy, and so far, the impending WEAVING TOGETHER OF TWO SOULS has done little to affect her current levels thereof.
If the magazines are correct - and Martha Stewart's magazines are always correct or so help her she will end you - weddings are full of stress, jitters, bridezilla-ing, crazes, and other things that are distinctly the opposite of lying in a hammock somewhere. If you're not Nitpicking Napkin Colors, you're Putting Out that In-Law Fire* (*Real headlines from wedding magazines.** [**No, they're not.]). I wish wedding planning was full of as much excitement and adventure as walking into Mordor, but so far I have dealt with NO FIRES. Not a one. Not even, really, the metaphorical type - which is what I assume that headline about your in-laws was talking about because, otherwise: sad. Wedding planning is annoying, but straight-forward. It's like those silly magazines only want you to think this is impossible so that you will buy more of their "helpful" prod- OH.
But guys! Okay, I know you're all ladies! Martha! This is a bad marketing strategy! Feeling crazy and stressed doesn't make me buy magazines or other things that I can't afford. When I get stressed, I just chew my nails! When I get really stressed I stomp around the house sighing at my darling proto-husband, and if that goes on too long, well who exactly is going to get married? And then who will pay you? Think of THAT the next time you try to write a 10 page check-list for brides to be.
In the world's Ongoing Attempts to Drive Women Bananas (see also: Republicans; emo boys; filthy, lying "no-chip" nail polish), the checklist is always for the brides. The grooms get all the good parts of being stressed out: people ask them about their feelings, offer them neck massages, and ply them with whiskey. The actual pieces of the crazy-making puzzle, though, are handed to the bride. Checklists? Craft projects? Vendor lists? Triceps exercises? YES - take them all and make MAGIC. The wedding industry helpfully implains (implies/explains. I dunno. Maybe I am losing it.) that it makes sense because ladies naturally know how to throw the greatest party in the world for 160 people that they may or may not have met before. It happens during puberty - a great awakening in which you realize what kind of human you are attracted to and also how many canapes to order per guest and whether or not it really is okay to play all of Bryan Adams's greatest hits during a reception.
I think I'm doing wedding wrong, though, because even with all of these tough decisions (1. near-husband 2. 1 million more than you think people can eat because they are drinking and it's free food 3. DO IT), I have yet to have a melt-down. Sure, I've gotten testy when asked for the forty-fourth time what my husband is going to wear or if we have rented enough chairs or if we can eat lobster while getting married in Maine. But full-on hulk-smash? I can't seem to muster up the energy, which, in Martha's words, is a good thing.
When I'm pledging my eternal life and loyalty to someone, I want to be in the sort of mental condition that inspires confidence. I would like people to see me walking down that aisle and say, "Man! She is definitely going to fall down in those shoes, but otherwise it looks like she's making really good life choices! Mazel tov!" Wedding is fun; wedding is special; wedding is probably not the most important day of my life - the day I met FutureSpouse and insta-wooed him mere days before he left our shared college for good was super important and yet another excellent life choice. I'd much rather go crazy on crunk juice during the wedding than on checklists in the days leading up to it.
The kids still call it crunk juice, right? Oh, lord, I am losing it.
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