The man has only one look, for Christ’s sake! Blue Steel? Ferrari? Le Tigra?
They’re the same face! Doesn’t anybody notice this? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!
So many things in life constitute a Zoolander quote, and this post is one of them :).
Let’s be frank (the tank) and get into the nitty-gritty details of a thing I like to call Losing my Sh*t Because Our Wedding is This Year. A glorious thing, it is. Vows will be exchanged, cake will be cut. Somebody’s date will wear a slutty dress and inevitably there will be an old college friend who passes out in the bushes. These are all things that make a wedding a memorable one.
So why, you may ask, am I sitting happily at my desk during the middle of the day, working. All, click-clack click-clack on my keyboard and “ooh, Potbelly sounds good for lunch OMG I NEED TO ORDER INVITATIONS!!” or “howmanypeoplesitata60inchtable?!”. It’s CRAY and completely un-necessary. The normal, calm Natalie is like, “keep it cool my baby” while the sweaty, heart-palpitating version is like “YOU IDIOT WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!”.
I am bound and determined for the cool, collected side to win out. To not care that all my friends weddings have been gorgeous and have set the bar like 1238912 feet high. I don’t care, no I don’t. I am the mature, 30 year-old “I’m passed all this” bride. I pity the relentless Pinterest brides who make EVERY decoration out of driftwood and burlap…or do I?
Do you see the struggle I face?
One day I’m all, who cares about a program? And the next I’m ugly-crying over those cheesy chalkboard signs, proclaiming “pick a seat, not a side”. Poetic, yo. How do I strike a balance?
Aha! I have a way.
Yes, I’m upping the meds and hopefully this will do a body good. Lord knows I need all the help I can get. However, man cannot survive on pills alone.
I plan to stay decisively focused on the goal: just plain ol’ marrying Bryan. Boring I know, but that’s really all I want. And no amount of peonies are gonna help or hinder that goal. Neither are perfect centerpieces for the tables, DIY signs for the bar or ANYTHING bearing a monogram. Say la vie.
A few Christmas lights in the trees, drinks flowing, cupcakes-o-plenty and Miley wailin. YEP – sounds like a shindig for Bryan and Natalie. And on the way, I’ll pray for a stroke of good luck – a perfect pair of sparkly flat sandals on sale at the Rack, Nan hitting the mother-load at Goodwill and finding TONS of vintage milk glass.
Maybe a thigh gap will one day miraculously appear after a grueling 20 minute recumbent bike session on Level 1, while watching SATC re-runs.
A girl can hope :). And for now, that will do ‘er just fine.