And that includes weddings, especially my wedding.
But that doesn’t mean things go as planned. Two hours before my sunset beach wedding, I was picking up a rental car, trying to shove dinner down my throat, and make it back to my mom’s condo in time to get ready. Sure it was a bare foot wedding, but I still had to curl my hair, hair spray the shit out of it, squeeze into a dress, and chew some gum. The gum was of course located at my condo… my father ran down the beach, upstairs to my condo, burst through the door, and broke into a panic all over a piece of gum. Of course, it took several minutes before the words gum managed to leave his mouth, leaving my husband and man of honor to think I was getting cold feet (I wish I could have seen it, and I wish you could see the impression my friends do of my father bursting through the door looking for my man of honor). Despite time constraints and a parking tag left behind at Alamo or whatever the hell the car rental place was called, I managed to get ready in time. Now, since I was having somewhat of a feminist wedding, my niece walked me down the “aisle.”
I thought it was a great idea… until we actually started walking. She’s five, and I’m spewing shits and fucks all over the place. I wasn’t afraid to get married. I just wasn’t ready to wear a dress, read my vows, and listen to Jeff’s vows in front of thirty people. Why? I knew I was going to cry, and I don’t cry in front of people. I didn’t even cry during Marley and Me. That’s how good I am. But not this time- damn the photographic evidence (No, you may not see it).
Nonetheless, I read vows, I cried, I listened to vows, I cried some more, and I got married. The only thing missing was Maggie!