This may be the last post until after my wedding next weekend. Anticipatory inquietude gnaws my mind. And there are errands galore, some that may make for amusing blog fodder. Like, I could regale you with a scathing recount of yesterday’s trip to David’s Bridal on a frantic hunt for accessories, during which I saw scores of girls in their early 20s, all either trailer-trash rail thin or fast-food chubby, sashay around in gaudy dresses while their adoring entourages squeed about how flattering that neckline is. Maybe I’m just bitter because my own bridal dress shopping experience was as solitary as a nose pick. If my neckline is woefully unflattering, I only have myself to passive aggressively resent.
Yes, all these bridal observations are so delightful. Unfortunately my writing energies are stretched thin these days. Both my full-time job and my consulting job are entering “produce or die” phases in the product lifecycle. The workload of a technical writer is like this: Twiddle thumbs, twiddle thumbs, twiddle thumbs… Incoming, HOLY CRIPES. Then come the 11 hour days, the desire to punch strangers who walk too slow on the sidewalk, the sense that my keyboard is taunting me: Feed me words, missy. Feed me! Is that fastest you can type?
Nervous. I’m a little nervous about the wedding. All eyes will sit on me as I portray the serene, blushing bride, ensconced in all the traditional trappings of matrimony. I avoid spotlights and rarely crave to be the center of attention, despite what the rampant exhibitionism on this website may suggest. The last time I was the focal point of a large gathering of people was 5 years ago during an office Halloween party, when my angel costume landed me as a finalist in the costume contest. Coincidentally, I also wore white.
I have carefully constructed a facade of bridal innocence to cover-up the mental and physical sullying by the passage of time. I’m more fearful that what everyone tells me is true: That your wedding day is the fastest day of your life. It is over in a blink of an eye. I’m scared that when Mr. P and I grow old together, we’ll remember the solid year of wedding planning, we’ll have the pictures and mementos to ponder, but the happiest day of our lives will be a blur. Even couples who love each other as desperately as we do must be scared for the wedding to be over, and real life to begin.
