There are soooooo many things married people don’t tell you about getting married:
You have to pick wedding colors ( I honestly thought you just put shit together and hope for the best)
There are literally 1000 tiny bitty decisions to make (I had to answer 50 questions from my florist, 10 from limo people, 30 from bakery, reception hall – don’t even go there, invitations were a mess because some people apparently like to be refered to as Mr. or Mrs, song choices – crap shoot, programs, mass songs, budget issues, photographer interviews, dj interviews, bridesmaid musical chairs, relatives and their wahala, future in-laws and outlaws, people you forget to invite, seating chart politics, rsvp wahala, program, seating cards, decor, and don’t forget that the catholic church will interview you like you are about to join the CIA and make you go to pre-wedding classes, agree to abide by rules of liturgy as you make the 100 hundreds of decisions about your readings, psalms, readers, gift bearers, and worrying if your guest have booked their hotel rooms, and giving side eye to guests that ask you to book their hotel rooms….)
Where was I? Ah, -
You have to whiten your teeth (da heck … my teeth are ajar as I type damn crest stripes)
Bridezillas are not fictional creatures (your brain goes on a fritz and it seems like every one is out to ruin your day)
Anything that will go wrong, will go wrong. No matter how hard you try.
You start to ask God to give you another set of relatives in your next life.
By a month to the day, you seriously consider strapping a mini bottle of vodka to your garter under your dress.
By two weeks to the day, you mentally case the church to see where a private swig is possible
Okay … enough for today. Am off to take my ativan and hopefully it kicks in sooner than later. If I return to this post, then it did not kick in…