Bride to Be Anxiety

I have to admit that when I got engaged I promised myself I would not be Bridezilla. I told myself I would be organized, calm and cool and have everything finished within six months of the wedding.

Ha!

I am not Bridezilla. In fact, I'm the total opposite. There's a lot of details about the wedding I'm totally chilling about. Some of it I don't care about (flowers: only Aunt Tree and Mom will notice them; limo: it's only there to get you place to place). The rest of it I'm just sort of taking it as it comes.

However, if one more person reminds me that May 5 is just around the corner I will cut out their tongue and strangle them with it.

I am AWARE that I am getting married in less than five months. I KNOW I need to order the invitations, book the hotel, get the honeymoon settled, start planning the reception, etc. All the things I planned on having done by October were broadsided by a brain tumor, two nervous breakdowns, a stolen car, and a new job. Get off my back.

And I understand that my mother is trying to be helpful, truly I do. But she just irritates me and makes me so anxious. Part of me seriously wishes I had just eloped, but another part of me knows that no matter the anxiety that goes into this day, I will always be glad I walked down the aisle with 165 of my nearest and dearest watching me tell Omar I will be with him until I die.

Marrying Omar doesn't make me nervous in the slightest. That's fine. Sometimes I feel like we're married already. I know we certainly sound like we are to our friends. It's the prep for the ceremony that makes me nauseous. How in the hell am I ever going to finish it all! So much to do, so little time, etc.

I did, however, pick up my wedding dress yesterday. And I put it on knowing I'd put on weight and would need to have it let out a little. It didn't matter. I put that dress on and went "Oooh" in this really girly feminine way that made me feel ashamed, 'cause I am not a gusher. It did bring tears to Baby Sis's eyes, which was quite nice. I'm glad she was with me to pick it up because she's my best pal besides Omar and it would have sucked to have someone else there to do it. Other people offered, but I'm glad it was her.

The bridal shop people told me to lose fifteen pounds and the dress would fit perfectly. I've got four months to loose twenty pounds, then. Starting Jan. 2, I will be changing my eating habits and starting to work out. That dress will fit. It will look good. Or I will seriously have a breakdown because it was thirteen hundred dollars, after you add in the veil and tiara and petticoat thing to wear underneath it.

In many ways, the next five months will fly and in others, they'll crawl. All I know is at the end of them, I'll be married to Omar and I don't think I care about anything else but that. Except fitting into the dress. 'Cause that's a damn gorgeous dress.

Merry Freakin' Xmas

Something about retail ruins the holidays. Whether it's the Christmas music that starts playing the day after Thanksgiving, the cranky shoppers, or the hellish hours I have to work, I find myself feeling more and more Scrooge-like with every passing year. I actually find myself saying to Omar that I hated Christmas.

This is not entirely true. I like Christmas. I like traditions and Christmas in my family is all about traditions. Lasagne on Christmas Eve. Strouffla on Christmas morning. My dad's one gift to Baby Sis and me that he picks out by himself every year (earrings, nice ones, too). My mom's cornball calendar that she gives every year. My relatives arrival, the debate over whether or not to attend Mass, even watching It's a Wonderful Life and a truly horrible yet very funny Steve Martin movie called Mixed Nuts. These are all traditions in my house.

Of course now I split Christmas with my parents and Omar's and man does that suck. But we try our best and that's how it goes. I can't wait until we don't have to split anything. I hate having to go everywhere. I'm putting my foot down. When there's a baby, people will come to us, dammit.

Anyway, I'm working six days this week, six days next week and probably six days the following week. It's just exhausting and it makes me kind of hate the holidays. I say it every year, but HEAR ME NOW. This is my last freaking Christmas in retail. LAST ONE. I swear to God, I will not put myself through this again.