‘Til our wedding y’all.

100. Days.

100 days until I am a Mrs. A wife (NOT a wifey, PLEASE). And you know what? I’m so freakin excited.

Questions.

Cold feet? 

Um HEYYL nah. My feet are actually hot and sweaty. And in dire need of a pedicure.

Nervous about living together? 

In case you live on another planet or are brand new to my humble blog (welcome!), The Bry and I have been living together for a while. We moved in together after dating for only 4 months.

Before any uptights JUDGE, extenuating circumstances do apply. We met months prior and were friends before we started officially “dating”. We both just KNEW. Blah Blah Blah. When you’re in your late twenties and two people click like Bry and I happened to…you move in. Sorry Dad! It all worked out! Feel free to get us this gift for our wedding:

 

Excited for the honeymoon?

YASSSS. Because we will spending 10 wonderful nights in Bali, Indonesia!!

Soon we will be getting our hep B and typhoid shots. I will be packing a suitcase chalked full of malaria pills, Benadryl, Ib prof, a few gallons of pure deet and of course 45 tubes of Cortizone. Oh and to prevent Bali Belly <- yes, this is a thing, I will be armed with pepto AND Imodium. Prepare yourselves for me to return to this blog, like totally zen and stretchy from all the yoga we shall do.

How ya feeling about The Big Day? 

Tunnel vision. It’s allll about the tunnel vision. Well, and the right meds. But srsly, I’m fine. As long as I focus on what matters most (marrying Bryan), I don’t think anything else can matter. “The cake melted?” WHO CARES? “There’s a stain on my veil?” OH WELL. As long as there’s food, booze, music and all my favorite peeps…I give zero f*cks.

Do you guys want kids?

Just check out the pic:

That’s actually Jackson, my friend Carey’s son (he is so little there!).

Of course, we waiver on kids every time we see one having a meltdown over Cheddar Bunnies at Target, but I think that’s normal. I’d like a fur baby to wet my whistle, but all the tiny breeds don’t usually mix well with little bbs. Which sucks, because what is cuter than a 2 lb chihuahua and a newborn baby? NOTHING. Honestly, I am more hesitant about the actual pregnancy part. It’s a shame I can’t team up with 8 other ladies and squeeze one out in 1 month, instead of 9.

Overall thoughts:

I am PUMPED. American Gladiators style. Get me in that over-priced white frock! Pronounce that sh*t. Let me slow dance with my Dad to Butterfly Kisses!

I am READY.