Getting married is a real hassle. Seriously, if Sweetie and I had known how much of a hassle our butts would have been in Vegas saying our vows in front of 1969 Comeback Elvis. After all of the months of planning (24 to be exact) the day of the wedding flashed by like the blink of an eye. It was not without the inevitable problems that accompany my life (of course, nothing for me is ever easy, or perfect.) It certainly made for a memorable day.
Problem #1: I am indecisive about almost everything having to do with my person. Which means I never know if I am dressed for the occasion until I get to the event, and worry the entire way. I also have a slight perfection complex that rears its ugly little head when it comes to important occasions. My bridesmaid Dianna, who was awesome enough to travel from Idaho to Pennsyltucky for said wedding extravaganza, had gotten married the August before Sweetie and I traded vows. Girlfriend has been part of my pack since 3rd grade when she moved from the “big city” of Erie, we’ve been pretty tight since. She was the Shirley to my Laverne for five years when we were crazy single girls living “on our own” in an upstairs flat in Erie in our twenties. She’s a rockin’ chick and deserves a medal for putting up with me on the big day, as I was pretty much one big, exposed nerve. Anyhoo, like I said, she got married the August before, and was sweet enough to lend me her veil and headpiece for my “something borrowed”. Now, of course, being the tomboy that I am, I figured I would wear the veil and forego the headpiece as it was a really beautiful tiara with rhinestones and pearls, and was way too, well, shiny. I thought it would look like bedazzling a troll doll. So I figured that I would wear my hair down and have the hairdresser curl it to resemble a Maid Marian hairdo. Day of wedding comes. It is freaking humid as hell. (July 2nd, go figure) There was no way that my hair, which hung past my shoulder blades, was going to hold a curl in that humidity. Plus, I’m a “healthy” girl, and was pretty much sweating while sitting still. So, the hairdresser went to plan B for my hair which was pulling up off of my sweaty neck and into an elaborate (for me) updo. When I looked into the mirror I realized that it needed something. I looked at Dianna, and she flashed a smile and said “I’ll go get the headpiece for you”. Homegirl drove all the way back to my house (7 miles away) and grabbed the tiara and brought it back for the hairdresser to put in my ‘do. Thanks to my wonderful friend, I looked like a princess, even though I thought that was something that was impossible for me to do.
Problem numero dos: My little cousin Junebug, Dianna, and I had just arrived at the hotel where the wedding and reception were to be held. I was sitting on the bed in the Bridal Suite, enjoying the wonderful invention that is air conditioning, and eating the first thing I had eaten all day (at 1PM mind you). I had just taken a bite of a gorgeous slice of cantaloupe, when a knock sounds at the door. Dianna opens it, so my “it’s your day” bridal ass didn’t have to get up, and it is my VERY patient wedding planner. Now, as a side note, before you get the idea that I am some rich chick that can afford a wedding planner as in the J-Lo movie, I want to say that the planner was part of the package that the hotel provided when you have a wedding there. She was not someone that planned every aspect of my special day so that I didn’t have to lift a single finger, though, looking back, that would have been TOTALLY SUH-WEET! So, here is the hotel superwoman, who right away says “I don’t want to upset you, but…” Okay, you don’t want to say those words to a worrier…ever. She proceeds to tell me that the wedding cake has arrived and there is a problem. Now, the wedding cake was my baby. As in, I had the LONGEST consultation of all with the cake lady. I was specific, I had pictures, I was totally organized as far as the cake was concerned. She was the very first wedding vendor that was paid in full, months, and I do mean months before the wedding. The cake was hella-expensive. It was one of the only things that I was going all-out on. It was to be a four-tiered thing of wonder. I had talked about it to anyone who would listen for months. And now, there was a problem with the cake. I took a deep breath, and said “umkay, what is the problem?” She tells me that the cake lady had dropped the cake off and left, she said, it is beautiful, absolutely one of the prettiest wedding cakes that she has ever seen, however, the bottom tier has cracked and is sliding out from the rest of the cake. As I feel my blood pressure beginning to rise, she says that they have been frantically trying to get said cake lady on the phone, and they have had no success. So, they called a local grocery store who sent over their cake person, who is trying to valiantly salvage my cake. Amazed at my calmness I ask her to take me to the cake so I can look at it. I mean, maybe it isn’t as bad as I’m envisioning. She takes me to the ballroom and I quickly find that it isn’t as bad as I’m imagining. It is worse. The whole thing was a cake version of the Leaning Tower of Piza at this point. I feel tears coming to my eyes, and the surrogate cake lady tells me that she can fix it, but the entire bottom tier will have to come off. I look at my angel of mercy and tell her I trust her. She tells me how sorry she is, and I can see the sympathy in her eyes. Plus, none of this is her fault, she is there to help, so I gratefully thank her, and tell her, “I’m sorry, but I need to leave the room now”. She fixed it, nobody noticed, and it all turned out relatively okay. The grocery store never charged us for that wonderful girl’s time, and she saved my cake. So, if you are ever in Meadville, PA, please be sure to stop by the Giant Eagle grocery store and buy some of their baked goods, because that place was my Godsend that day.
Problem #3: My Groom. Oh dear Gawd Sweetie got on my damn nerves that day. He kept calling my cell and freaking out about, well, you name it. He found out about the cake…he freaked. The florist had an extra boutonniere…commence freaking… I gave my cell to my Maid of Honor and told her I was not taking any more calls. She fielded the rest of them for me.
Problem #4: Suddenly, my cousin Junebug’s dress was too small. Now, this was a new development. I turned and asked her “didn’t you try it on when it came in????” and she told me her Mom was in a big hurry, so they just picked it up. Nice. My bridesmaids descended on her and I found a bottle of wine. I opened the wine, I poured myself a glass. I left the room and went down to the veranda and started nervously chain-smoking.
Problem #5: I came back from my “smoke-break” to find out that the flower girl’s feet had grown in like a week, and the shoes that fit perfectly no longer fit. Shanna, one of my other bridesmaids, called her husband and told him to high-tail it to the bridal suite and not to ask any questions. Poor guy showed up and Shanna handed him one of the shoes and said “go to Walmart, go to the girls’ shoe section, find a pair of white dress shoes one size bigger than this.” I saw the look of fear cross his face as she pushed him out of the room. I grabbed another glass of wine and went back to the veranda. At this point, we were 20 minutes away from the ceremony.
Problem #6: I finally went back to the bridal suite, after seeing that the guests seemed to be filling the seats at a rapid pace. At this point, I still had no makeup on, I was not dressed, and I was the one who was like some sort of German villain screaming to people that we would be starting on time. I’m weird about not being late. I went upstairs and sequestered myself in the bathroom and put on makeup very quickly. The girls hefted me into my dress and we ran down the stairs. We were 20 minutes late. UGH!
I had been missing my parents terribly all day. It is really hard when your parents pass away and you get married after. I kept thinking how my Mom would have handled all of these problems for me, and my day would have gone like clockwork. I mean, I get my stubbornness from that woman. I know that my Dad would have kept me from the hyperventilation that I could feel coming on, he was just chill like that. I missed them a lot. As I walked out of the door of the hotel and looked toward the pier that we were to be married on, I started to tear up, I could feel my face crumpling. The lack of food, the drinking of wine, the problems, the heat, and the nerves were starting to get to me. Then I looked into they eyes of my brother, who was ready to walk me down the aisle, and he said, “Don’t worry man, you’ve got this!” He took my hand, squeezed it, and told me how proud our parents would have been. I immediately bucked up, sucked in the tears, and put on my Big-Girl Pants and told him “lets do this.” I walked down the aisle with my bro, and my other bro met us halfway and took my other arm, and walked me to Sweetie. I looked into his eyes and knew that I was marrying the person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The rest of the wedding and reception went by in a blur. The after-party was awesome, and I even sang Jessie’s Girl with the band at the bar we went to after, in my wedding dress.
Today is officially my third day as a married woman…
To say I married the most wonderful man in the world is an understatement. I can’t begin to tell people how much I love him. Sweetie is the very definition of “the best”. I’ll post more pictures from the wedding, and try to take the time to give you the blow-by-blow of the misadventure that was getting married. However, it was the perfect day, even with all the imperfections. I couldn’t have asked for more, it was really everything I ever dreamed of as a child, including my “Knight in Shining Armor”.