Sunday, November 19, 2006
Here comes the bride(smaid)
Well, it's official. I'm getting married.
Let's be honest. It was official when he proposed, when I said yes, when I wore and continue to wear the ring, when we moved in together and when we periodically make life-long plans together.
Sure, I've already bought a costly white dress that I will never be able to wear again. And, it's no small matter that I've got my mom all hyped up about planning a wedding (including but not limited to: picking china patterns and flatware, flowers, eliminating any choreographed dances from the reception play-list and a cake tasting or two). You can't just pull a wedding-rug out from a mom!
But now it's really official.
Two things happened this weekend that really sealed the deal.
As one was paying for her dress, the girl behind the counter hands her a "contract". My fairly entertaining bridesmaid says, "What, is this a contract that says I won't get fat before the wedding?" Girl behind the counter, missing the joke (which should have been my clue to zip-it) says, "Uh, no. It's just in case, like, I dunno *nervous glance at me* the wedding is cancelled or something like that -- that you'll still pick up the dress." I chime in: "Cha. Cancelled. I just ordered 200 magnets with my name on them. Nothing's getting canceled unless I find some bodies in his basement."
Cue the crickets.
Thankfully, said bridesmaid gave me an honest guffaw about it so I wasn't drowning in the silent screams of my dying joke. Of course, she and I regularly find opportunites to quote "Silence of the Lambs" to each other and have been since college so she's really no judge of my inappropriate references to serial murderers. And indeed, of the 4 of us standing there -- Bridesmaid, Bride and 2 Counter-Clerks, only two of us really knew it would be more absurd than absurd to ever think the Betrothed would be capable of snuffing a life, let along multiples lives, let along hiding them in my tidier-than-tidy, sully-under-penalty-of-death basement. Tsk-tsk.
I'm not a total loss, though. I successfully showed my face at the same boutique the next day to measure the rest of the girls -- and managed to go the entire time without making people look at me funny.
Baby steps. Baby steps.
Let's be honest. It was official when he proposed, when I said yes, when I wore and continue to wear the ring, when we moved in together and when we periodically make life-long plans together.
Sure, I've already bought a costly white dress that I will never be able to wear again. And, it's no small matter that I've got my mom all hyped up about planning a wedding (including but not limited to: picking china patterns and flatware, flowers, eliminating any choreographed dances from the reception play-list and a cake tasting or two). You can't just pull a wedding-rug out from a mom!
But now it's really official.
Two things happened this weekend that really sealed the deal.
- I ordered our "save-the-date" magnets (I'm a little bit of a magnet fiend, and it was so apro-po. They're adorable. I'm delighted.) that are printed with our names on them. Since I can't imagine what I'd do with them in-bulk should this all fall through, come hell or high water, we're getting married. [Though perhaps a lack of preparation on my part, I only asked the Betrothed the "You're for-sure, for-sure about this, right?" AFTER my credit card had been billed. He said "Yes, goddamnit. I'm watching poker!" Hands off, ladies. This romantic is all mine.]
- Other people's cash-monies are involved now. I took my bridesmaids to the shi-shi salon this weekend to order their delightfully not-heinous dresses. {I swear, swear-on-us, they aren't ugly. They are truly "you'll be able to wear them again!"-able. That, or my b-maids are fantastic liars.} Deposits were made, measurements were taken. I couldn't in good conscience back out on these, my maid-sy gal pals.
As one was paying for her dress, the girl behind the counter hands her a "contract". My fairly entertaining bridesmaid says, "What, is this a contract that says I won't get fat before the wedding?" Girl behind the counter, missing the joke (which should have been my clue to zip-it) says, "Uh, no. It's just in case, like, I dunno *nervous glance at me* the wedding is cancelled or something like that -- that you'll still pick up the dress." I chime in: "Cha. Cancelled. I just ordered 200 magnets with my name on them. Nothing's getting canceled unless I find some bodies in his basement."
Cue the crickets.
Thankfully, said bridesmaid gave me an honest guffaw about it so I wasn't drowning in the silent screams of my dying joke. Of course, she and I regularly find opportunites to quote "Silence of the Lambs" to each other and have been since college so she's really no judge of my inappropriate references to serial murderers. And indeed, of the 4 of us standing there -- Bridesmaid, Bride and 2 Counter-Clerks, only two of us really knew it would be more absurd than absurd to ever think the Betrothed would be capable of snuffing a life, let along multiples lives, let along hiding them in my tidier-than-tidy, sully-under-penalty-of-death basement. Tsk-tsk.
I'm not a total loss, though. I successfully showed my face at the same boutique the next day to measure the rest of the girls -- and managed to go the entire time without making people look at me funny.
Baby steps. Baby steps.
# posted by Cathy @ 7:20:00 PM 
