Here’s some pretty pictures from the wedding – cause obviously, that was the whole point.
And, yes, we did exchange ‘bling.’ And, no, it wasn’t Steve’s idea – it was mine and it was brilliant.
I don’t like wedding cake, so there was a brownie sundae bar. Which, I hear, was good. I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t really want any, but then I realized I had had like five 16-ounce pint glasses of margarita.
And, a pinata.
And there was more dancing, which resulted in the best picture of the night after Steve changed clothes and was wearing a headband, but apparently, he didn’t put that one on the facebook.
It was good times and fun and everything people told me wouldn’t work out beforehand did work out.
But, honestly, the whole thing made me feel more alone. Because, I can not be the only female on the planet who doesn’t enjoy the ‘ooooohhhh, are you like SOOOO excited’ and ‘just remember, it’s your special day’ and ‘you must be sooooo stressed out. well, just remember, there’s nothing you can do on that day, so whatever happens, I’m sure it’ll be MAGICAL’
OH MY GOD, are you so excited? Are you ready? I’m sure everything will come together. Don’t stress about it; you must be so stressed. Whatever happens, it’ll be a magical day, I’m sure it’ll all come together. You must be so excited. Do have enough cups? Where is everyone going to sit? It’ll be soooo nice. Don’t forget, it’s all about you guys. What should I wear? Do you think this dress is ok? What about this one? What are other people wearing? Ohhh, are you like soo stressed out? How do you feeeeeel?
Even just writing these sentences is making me make an angry face at my computer and want to go punch somebody.
So, the closer and closer we got to the wedding, the more and more I felt like a totally separate and unique species standing on an island by myself.
It’s not like I’ve never lived with girls and can’t participate in some good girl talk. I lived with four girls and we watched Sex and the City and facebook stalked boys and sat in the bathroom gossiping while one of us did her hair. And, it was all perfectly fun, but in an fun-ironic kind of way — no one takes Cosmo seriously or actually thinks Carrie is a role model. Right.
Steve thought I was exaggerating, but I was with him a couple of times the subject of the wedding came up and this is what guys said to him, with no further questions and no weird baby voices:
– Really? That’s great, congratulations man.
– Oh, cool, when is it?
– Ho, did she break your leg. Guess you can’t get away now, huh, huh. Guess you can’t escape with a broken leg. Hah.
OK, that last one was also annoying. But, not one person went ‘oooooohhhhh, are you like sooooooo excited.’
And, the more this came up (people were actually banned from asking me questions at one point), the more it was like ‘oh, Kelly’s just so crazy, she just hates people.’ Which brings us back to the original point: I am apparently inhabiting a universe entirely by myself.
It’s like this one time I was wearing an empire-waist white blouse at this party and this middle-aged woman came up to me and rubbed my stomach and said, “Ohhh, when are you due?” And then she promptly realized she was a moron and started apologizing.
But, the thing is she thought I was mad because she was calling me fat or something, but that wasn’t why I was mad because 1. I’m not fat and 2. in the universe I inhabit – and of which I am becoming increasingly concerned I am the only inhabitant – it is NOT ok to rub a total stranger’s stomach under any circumstances unless maybe you’re performing CPR or something and even then, let’s not be creepy.
And, everyone I tell this story to thinks it’s funny. But, NO ONE thinks it’s appalling.