Yesterday, I cried over the price of black velvet ribbon at Jo-Ann Fabrics. Then, I went to Staples and couldn’t believe they didn’t have the right size paper. Again, I wanted to cry. Then, I wanted to get a baseball bat and swing away—right into their stupid wedding display. What is happening to me? Me, who is (mostly) even keel and polite. Oh, of course: I’m getting married next weekend.
Jake and I got engaged in February, and we weren’t sure we wanted to get married right away. In fact, we were even thinking of pushing it back to June 2012, because that was when one of my best girlfriends would return from New Zealand. At the behest of my parents, we decided against waiting and planned for November 12th, 2011. (No, not 11-11-11, okay; everyone and their stinkin’ brother is getting married THAT day.) We booked the venue, and we were off and running!
Since booking the venue and settling on a date, I’ve done quite well. I was efficient in my dress purchase. I found the florist the same day. The caterer was easy, as was the decision to serve home-brewed beer and lots of liquor at the reception. We took an unconventional step when we decided against a DJ and instead went for a friend and an iPod. Everything else (including a tutu for Ripley) just fell into place … and yet this week, I have become bridezilla.
How did this happen? It’s not as if I haven’t had tons of help. Jake has been wonderful with the wedding planning, singlehandedly organizing our rehearsal dinner and then some. Friends have been a blessing from God. My mother and aunt in Ohio have run all over the internet, looking for nice touches and good suggestions. Every vendor we’ve found for the wedding? Cheerful. Helpful. Perfect.
And yet I was crying over ribbon yesterday, followed immediately by a trip to Total Wine where I bought my favorite vodka and then curled up on my couch with a cocktail, desperately trying not to cry anymore. I’ve lost my damn mind!
I was warned this would happen, by every one of my girlfriends who has already been married. I was warned that weddings can turn even normal women into soul-sucking wenches. But they do say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
I have a little over a week before officially becoming Mrs. Jacob Bauer, and from here on in, I refuse to let the bridezilla crush my village. Despite all the tiny details that are driving me crazy, I will take a deep breath and realize that the small stuff doesn’t matter. Jake matters. Our family matters. God matters, and He’ll be there with us next Saturday as Jake and I become man and wife.
I’ve started meditating on the song Jake and I chose for our first dance (no, I’m not telling you what it is; it’s a surprise). The lyrics say all that needs to be said. So do the words the pastor read to us this past Monday at our final counseling session before The Big Day.
I’m ready to get married. I’m completely stressed out, and I cry over things like, oh, wrinkles in fabric and slow drivers when I have places to be, people! Don’t you know, I’m the BRIDE? I will kill you!!!
<Sara takes a sip of vodka.>
Whoa, see, the bridezilla shows up without warning, but dang it, I’ll beat her, even if I have to use a baseball bat. If you see me over the course of the next week, give me a hug and tell me to calm down (or buy me a drink; that usually works, too). If you see Jake, tell him he’s a saint. And if you hear about a psycho cussing out a Jo-Ann Fabrics employee, please bail me out of jail before November 12th. Thank you.