So. One of the big upcoming changes in my life is that I
will be getting married soon. Like, in two and a half months soon. I’ve never
been a girl to sit around and day dream about “the day I get married”. In fact,
when I was little I used to proudly tell my mum that I was “never getting
married and never having kids!” But this guy ... this guy is special, this guy
is different, and I can’t wait to be married to him.
We have been waiting quite a while for circumstances to be
right, so we’ve had plenty of time to work on the big picture – dress, rings,
venue, vibe, caterer, etc., etc. – but not the specifics, such as, well, date! Once
we had the green light we went through the process of making sure that key
people were available on our preferred date (including the groom, who inconveniently
lives in Montréal) and are now working out the logistics of it all before we
send out the invitations. (Before the etiquettists out there tsk, tsk, the save
the dates are out with the interstaters and all the locals know verbally.)
And this is where it gets surprising: I have felt the
stirring of my inner Bridezilla already and I am shocked at myself.
She first reared her ugly head while my dad was here looking
after me and we were discussing how many layers of family I was prepared to
drill down into on the guest list. Freak out number one was about blowing out
the budget when I have to relocate internationally next year and we have a
second, Canadian, celebration to throw when Charles’s family is a tightly-knit
cast of thousands. Freak out number two was that I really want to have a fairly
intimate ceremony, preferably around 65 people max, and the guest list is
currently sitting at 94 without cousins. 94?! Do I really know that many
people? I guess I, or we, do. My dad gave me a stern father-daughter talk at
the time, which I wasn’t in the mood for, but, yes, he was right. He told me to
get my priorities in order. My stepmother reinforced this with the sage words, “One
thing you will remember about the day is the people and how they wanted to be
there for you.” Shucks.
The next Bridezilla moment was Not. My. Fault. Now there’s a
dead giveaway statement if ever I read one. Right from the get-go, pretty much one
week into our engagement, we knew where we wanted to get married. We had even
had a date booked and a deposit paid for last year, but things didn’t pan out
that way. Of course, we were back onto them in a flash when we knew we were
good to go, confirmed a suitable date, yada, yada, and then they sent through
their new contract. This venue is a seaside venue: ceremony on the beach then a
stroll over the grass to the sweetly set tables for a long, leisurely,
family-style lunch in the dappled shade of the trees – aaaaah! Except ... they
no longer allow glass of any sort whatsoever. Whoa, Nellie! Not only have I
been painstakingly collecting vintage glasses by the scores for the table
settings (cough, Bridezilla alert, cough!), but actually I don’t feel like
paying around about $6,000 for catering and venue hire and then drinking my
celebratory wedding bubbles out of acrylic champagne flutes. I refuse to
consider that this is anything less than reasonable (cough...)
But, ya know what? It all worked out for the best. A chance
call to one of my workmates to get a phone number while I was on leave led to a
chat about what I’d been up to, led to discussing the venue debacle and then
led to her suggesting a venue that turned out to be perfect. It’s super cute,
closer to town for post-revelry taxi fares, is wet weather-proof (essential in
the tropics), has a kitchen onsite when the other venue didn’t, and it is $150
for the venue hire for the entire weekend. $150!! I feel like I am cheating
them. The venue is a community hall, so when we’re done I will make a donation
of equipment or something similar that I think they might need.
In the meantime I just found the budget for another 10 or so
guests, so now I just have to get used to the idea of that many people watching
me as I go through what will be one of the most emotional moments of my life. It’s
been such a long wait I have been joking that my wedding vows are going to be, “I
say yes, now where do I sign?” But then again, maybe I’m not actually joking.
Coming up: Will the bridesmaid be wearing animal print? Will
the bride be able to track down the long-lost old friend she wants to have as
wedding celebrant? And will the bride ever get to have a meeting with her
beloved caterers, and does this in fact even matter since she trusts them
enough to just hand over cash and say, “Knock yerselves out”? Stay tuned.
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