Tuesday, 22 November 2011

2.5 months later

Surely, I should be over the wedding blues by now.  In a way I am.  I'm glad I don't have the stress of it all anymore.  I don't have to think about table plans and decorations and argue with family members about their chavvy offspring's attendance.  I've not repaired my relationship with my brother or his brood of Buckfast swillers, and I don't think I ever will.  I'm polite and civil for the sake of my parents, but that's as far as it goes.   I don't have to worry about fitting into my dress( which is a good thing because I've gained so much weight since the wedding that my "fat jeans" don't fit anymore.

But... thinking back on the day - and although it was amazing - I feel let down.  There was no fuss on the morning of the wedding.  No champagne (well there was but I had to buy it and pour it and I was the only one drinking any), no strawberries, no sense that I was preparing for something special.  Just me runinng around in my dressing gown trying to make it special and it falling flat.  I just felt like nobody was interested.   Maybe it was my fault.  I'm so independent that I just made decisions on my own and did everythng and maybe that divorced my parents and my bridesmaids but they could have made some kind of effort.   Or is the special, fun getting ready thing just something that happens in tv or the movies?

Then after the wedding, my bridesmaids abandoned me.  I didn't see them again.  My maid of honour spent the rest of the night outside the function room, getting drunk with her sisters, and smoking.  My junior bridesmaids largely stayed out there too.  My other bridesmaid got changed out of her dress.   I had to figure out how to use the toilet by myself because there was nobody to help.  One friend helped, but I couldn't ask her all night!

We got the photos back.  Our album is amazing.  But somehow my mum managed to avoid being in most of the photos.  She's disappointed and I am too.  Again, it feels like she just wasn't interested enough to take any kind of role.

I was disappointed with my dress.  In all the photos you can see my bra straps.  I asked the seamstress to do something about it and she ignored me.    I'm disappointed that I didn't look more pretty or beautiful.  Just me in a dress with messy hair because the wind destroyed it.

Our album though.  It's brilliant.  It's like a storybook.   I have to physically restrain my husband from showing it to everyone.  Really.  I caught him showing the bloke who came to read the meter!!  I think he's proud of it.

Sigh.  The wedding achieved everything it was meant to.  I'm happily married to the love of my life, the day was great and good fun, but I think if I had to do it again I'd have gone in with lower expectations.  And chosen different bridesmaids.  

Saturday, 15 October 2011

so now that its all over...

Everyone just expects me to forget about it and never mention it again.   It's like it didn't happen and I'm actually getting to the stage where I'm embarrassed if someone wants to see the photos. I keep saying "Just tell me if you're bored by these".   And it's not like I'm a wedding bore.  I'm not still going on about it all the time.  But sometimes I do mention it.  For example, the other day it was my dad's birthday.  Now, I really don't know why I bother with my dad on his birthday but I always do.  I make the effort.  I buy him a gift which he'll make a comment about and give to my arsehole of a brother in front of me.  He's incredibly ungrateful.  But anyway, we drove out there, some family members were around, my dad barely looked at his gift (a mug chosen by my gorgeous husband and a hamper of foods he really likes)  except to ask if I'd got it in a jumble sale.  Didn't even take it out of the gift bag ffs.  Sigh.  But enough about my rude father, and back to the point which is that I  said to one of my nieces "I've got a really great photo of you and your dad at the wedding on facebook." Now, it wasn't meant as an "I GOT MARRIED!!" (although asking about our honeymoon or something would have been nice from any of them - I asked about yout holiday, so at least ask about mine!!),  my intention was just that I had this really great photo, and since none of them are on my facebook, did they want a copy.  All I got was an eye roll, and a rapid subject change.  So, ok.  I know we can't talk about it forever, but it was the first time I'd seen any of them since the wedding and they could have at least acknowledge it happened cause I was starting to wonder if I imagined it.

Then there are the other people getting married.  I have no bad feelings about the girls on the wedding site getting married - I love looking at their photos, in some cases I'm really excited for them and I love seeing the plans that we've all discussed for so long coming to life.   But there are other cases where I've been really huffy - 2 in particular.  One was a girl I was at school with who got married in the same place as me a few weeks later, and the other was a girl who got engaged at Christmas and totally eclisped my proposal and wedding plans because everyone was more interested in her plans.  In both cases, I was quite pleased that my dress was nicer.  I'm such a bitch, but it just made me feel so much better.

I'm slowly getting over the post-wedding blues, although I am still sad that it's all over.  I made myself pack up my veil and put it away and when I'm ready my dress will be cleaned and packed away, then it really will be in the past.    I know that life does go on after it all and there will be many more happy moments but....I really loved my wedding and I wish I could hold onto that specail feeling for just a bit longer.   

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

And so normality resumes

We're back from honeymoon and I'm gutted.   I feel really sad and low.  It was such a great day and we're not going to be able to do it again.   I look at my dress and I'm sad that I wont wear it again.   I'll never feel that special again.  I'm not a bride.  We're not honeymooners.  We're just another married couple.

We've opened our cards and presents.   We've unpacked the souvenirs from honeymoon.   There are boxes of stuff from the wedding lying around taunting me with their weddingness.  My bouquet is twinkling at me but will not be carried again.  My sparkly, lovely veil will be packed away unless I'm lucky enough to ever have a daughter who will wear it (It's unlikely that we'll be able to have children so this is a bit of  long shot, and even if we did, would she really want an old veil).  Our champagne flutes will be in the back of a cupboard. 

So, a whole year of planning, over in the blink of an eye. What now?

People say to concentrate on being married but...it's not changed anything.  I'm still me,  husband is still husband and having a bit of paper has just given us some extra security and the same last name.   It's not sprinkled magic fairy dust on things.  I'll still be messy and grumpy and husband will still spend too much time on football manager. 

And the bitching has started already.  My brother giving my dad a hard time thinking he paid for the wedding (he didn't, we did).  My brother in law making bitchy comments about my parents buying us a bigger house.  When you've worked hard to pay for things and save, and trust me, save we did - our wedding was paid for by us alone, no loans,  no credit card balance - it really grates that nobody believes we did it. 

I'll just have to focus on getting our house decorated.  At least that's a new project.

The horror of wedding photos

We've seen some wedding photos now.  Some professional ones and some on facebook.  And ouch.  I knew.  I really did.  I'm not traditionally beautiful, or pretty or even attractive.  The best I can hope for in good lighting and the right angle and decent makeup is distinctly average.  The word homely has been applied.  That hurts but probably true.  I've been compared to Princess Beatrice.   Sadly, I see the resemblance.  So I wasn't expecting thin and pretty.  I wasn't looking for supermodel.  I'm awkward and gangly and clumsy and I knew it would show.

So I knew the photos weren't going to do anything magical.  The posed shots are ok, from a distance.  Sadly our photographer was short and the day was windy so I look messy. There were shots taken during other moments. My arms look like hams and you can see the scars.   They seemed to catch me just about to laugh or finishing a laugh so I look...special.  And fat. 

I am so not photogenic. 

Everyone else seems to like them, and the photographer was really good and the shots I'm not in are lovely.

Was it too much to ask for one photo where I don't look like a window licker?

Sob.  Sob.  Sob.


It seemed like such a good idea at the time.  Get married on the Sunday and go straight to honeymoon from our hotel.  It made sense.  The hotel was near the airport.   Didn't think about the added stress of packing for the honeymoon before the wedding, organising money, travel insurance and so on, on top of the wedding planning.  Getting everything to the hotel.  Organising someone to pick up everything from the hotel.  Getting the kilts back to the hire shop.  Getting my dress home.  Not getting any of the yummy cupcakes.   Not having the time to appeciate the amazing suite in the hotel (2 showers - one with side jets), upstairs TV room,massive bath with a tv on the bathroom wall.  Having to leave so early in the morning that we didn't have time for a proper breakfast.

Then there was the choice of honeymoon destination.  We went to Krakow.   People reacted strangely to this.  Surely we should have been on a beach somewhere, not visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau.  Well, maybe, it wasn't honeymooney but it's what we wanted to do and we both loved Krakow.  The weather was great, the food and drink was so cheap, and we spent a week together. 

And now we're back....


The big day finally arrives

So, at 9.30pm the day before the wedding, future Mr Mental bride, looking very pale, finally left Bride House and headed off to his parents house, grumbling about being kicked out of his house and leaving a very nervous and alone mental bride alone with a lighter, a length of ribbon, a craft knife and some diamantes.  No, I wasn't trying to set fire to things or hang myself from a light fitting with a length of burgundy ribbon.  I was changing the sash on my junior bridesmaid's dresses from ivory to burgundy and I was singeing the end of the ribbons so they didn't fray.  Then I used the craft knife and diamante stickies to jazz up their shoes.

Eventually, I went to bed, setting my alarm for 6am the next day.  I drifted off to sleep, trying not to look at the veil hanging up, only to be shocked out of my lovely deep sleep at 11pm by some drunk people outside heading out.  Of course I couldn't get back to sleep for ages, but eventually, at around 2am I did sleep, only to be woken up by the same drunk people coming home at 3.30am.  So I lay there, listening to them doing something that sounded like throwing empties at wheely bins and getting more and more cross.  Didn't they know that a bride was trying to get some beauty sleep?  I had to look beautiful the next day dammit!!!  Eventaully, the annoying drunks passed out or went home and I drifted back to sleep...

...only to wake at 6.50!!  My alarm hadn't gone off.   Total disaster.  My hairdresser was coming at 7.45 and I hadn't done my clay wrap or anything else.  I did the clay wrap but was still wrapped in bandages when the hairdresser turned up.   At least she got a good laugh.  Then everyone else started to show up.  I was the most calm, running around in my dressing gown making bacon rolls and finding stuff and trying to keep peace between my bridesmaids.

To explain...I had asked 4 bridesmaids.  My maid of honour was my niece.  She's almost 3 years older and my parents had helped bring her up so she's more like a sister.  Her 2 daughters were the junior bridesmaids and I'd asked H2Bs  cousin to be my other bridesmaid.  They're quite close and he was really happy.  Only, she was a bit of a diva to be honest.  She insisted on using her own hairdresser.  She wore different shoes (to be fair she had an ingrowing toenail and wanted to hide it and did ask but it didn't endear her to my other bridesmaids who thought she was stuckup), she insisted on changing at night and she wouldn't get ready with us.  So, there was a certain amount of schadenfreude when she phoned in tears because her hairdresser hadn't showed.  My hairdresser was fully booked so that wasn't an option.  So she came over, did my makeup and insisted on going home to get changed, which meant she wasn't here when the cars arrived.

I remained calm until after my hair was done and my MOH had zipped me into my dress.  Then I saw it and it was all real.  And the cars came!!  Oh my god!!  It was actually happening!!!  Eeeeek.

Eventually, with everyone present and correct we got into the cars.  My mum and my bridesmaids into the Daimler limo and me and my dad into the 1932 Daimler.   My dad was so proud!!   We arrived at the venue and then suddenly that was it.

The ceremony went by quickly.  I nearly cried walking down the aisle with my dad, but at the last moment, got the giggles instead., not helped when H2B fluffed his lines during the lawful impediment bit and said "I don't".  Cue the registrar saying "I do.  He does!", me hitting him and H2B correcting himself, while everyone else laughed. 

Then the endless photos.  It was so windy that my hair got wrecked, but our photographer was so patient.  My face hurt so much by the end.

Then dinner (nommy but I couldn't fit much in my dress), speeches - my dad had left his at home so had to wing it, Husband's made my mum and nieces cry, and the best man who was really funny and eventually to the dancing.  Our first dance was the longest 2 minutes of my life but the DJ played the wrong song for a fewe seconds.  At my request - when Husband proposed he went to put on our first dance song and put on wonderwall instead - so the DJ replicated this.  There was ceildih dancing and a disco, cupcakes, buffet food and everyone seemed to have fun.  There were antics in the bushes (nobody has owned up) and a very drunk girl who went to one guy's room and then home with another.  Everyone is making friends on facebook so I'm guessing it was a success.

And  best of all, the chav, Jeremy Kyle family members didn't show up.  My brother caused a bit of trouble when he called one of the other guests an orangutan (she's ginger), but he's generally a bit offensive when he's drunk.  Husband's youngest brother was freaking people out by hugging randoms and stroking everyone's sporrans.

I can't believe it's over.  It sounds so cliched but it just went by in a blur.  I had an amazing time and hopefully everyone else did too.  So worth the hassle and stress.

Days to the wedding: 0

the bit where I go slightly mental

I'm not going to waste time blogging on my hen night.  Up until the end it was fun, then my niece got punched by some middle aged bloke and her sister got arrested for being upset.  I actually am struggling to get my head around that, but I don't think my thoughts would make good reading.  Unless you want a page of how rubbish the police were on this occasion and for fuck's sake how hard is it to take a statement.  And breathe....

Anyway, it's 13 days to the big event and I cant wait...until the fucking thing is over.

At the moment, I'm up to my neck in organza ribbon which at a stupid moment, I decided I had to wrap around the green stems of the wooden rose centrepieces.  I have no skin on my thumb because I keep supergluing it to the ribbon.   I still have to sew the ribbons onto my ballet shoes for the evening.   We've not done our table plan, my MOH has split up from her partner, was going to bring him anyway and then they fell out and she's bringing someone else.  Which would have been good 2 weeks ago before we got his painted wine glass commissioned.

H2B is all nervous and hasn't eaten dinner for 2 weeks.  He does the stressed not eating thing and I'm jealous because I want to eat.  I can't though because of my stupid dress.  Following an attack of shin splints and a dodgy back, I spent last week in pain and unable to work out so I went along to my dress fitting on Saturday and it was not good

We went in on time and another bride was there.  A very tiny bride wearing what looked like one of those toilet roll covers.  Anyway, rather than accept that she was eating into our time, she had to try on her several pairs of shoes, 3 different tiaras, bracelets, necklaces and so on.  Then she spent ages looking in the mirror and saying "they ordered me a size 6 dress and I think it should have been a 4.  Do I need to gain weight?"  Really?  Just. Fuck. Off.  So I sat there watching and listening to this, then had to get into my comparatively massive size 14 dress.  Which they had to yank the zip up on.   And then I couldn't breathe.  Take your size 6, 4, or 2 dress and shove it up your arse.  I think I wouldn't mind so much if she hadn't been so bloody high maintenance and annoying.  So I'm worrying that the dress isn't going to do up at all.

Days til the wedding: unknown

Saturday, 13 August 2011

In which I hate people and my body

Sadly the situation with my brother didn't blow over.  It got worse.  His brat of a daughter got involved and it all blew up over facebook.    I got very upset and resorted to kalms, my sister's children got involved to back me and future husband, future husband got angry that I had been upset and threatened to ban all my brother's kids and my brother from my wedding.  Its blown over now, but I'm still angry with them all and secretly, I hope that they don't turn up.

Then we moved onto the hen night.  Complete and total disaster.  We originally decided to go to see the Ladyboys but hardly anyone could come.  Then we rescheduled , but even less people could make it.  I feel very let down by all of them but one in particular.  I'm about to do one of my aimless histories followed by a rant.  Feel free to skip, but it's good stuff.

This story involves 2 friends, M and H.  M is a boy.  He's Australian, lives just outside Melbourne and we've been friends for over 10 years.  He's a great guy, not bad looking (if you like the bloke who played Shaggy in Scooby doo) and would make someone a lovely boyfriend.  Note:  Someone, not me.  He's my mate and that's it.  I've never kissed him, let alone done anything else.  He's firmly in the friend category.  Anyway, the Christmas before last, he came over to visit and I arranged for us to attend a ceilidh for Hogmanay.  We got him into a kilt, and off we went with some friends including H, an old mate from uni, universally acknowledged  to have been the best looking girl on our course.  Since then she's stalked him on facebook.  If he posts she'll reply immediately .  She's holding a massive torch and  as he's coming back over for the wedding she's pretty much soaking her knickers and planning to move to Australia to be with him.  Yes.  She is that mental.   So how has this almost teenage style crush angered mental bride?  Well, aside from a sort of proprietary jealousy on my part "How dare she?  He's MY friend.  She should find her own Australian", she's been, well, a total bitch.

She was invited to my doomed hen weeks ago..  She said she couldn't afford it.  I figured fair enough, despite wondering why she's so skint when at 32, she's still living with her parents.   I got a text from her a couple of days ago out of the blue, asking what we should do with M when he was over, which was odd as I hadn't heard from her in ages aside from a sniffy response to a facebook post I'd made about being upset about the family situation.  I then invited her to my rearranged hen, in the city she lives in, whch was much cheaper.  She couldn't make that either.  Apparently she has rehearsals for a dance class.  Later on that day she emailed me to tell me M was coming to Glasgow and she was going on the train with him to Mallaig and then over to Skye.  I pointed out that she was too poor to pay £29 for my hen so how could she afford that?  I got a sniffy one back saying that I'd only taken him to pubs.   I responded that he'd visited at Christmas, I'd taken him home for a family Christmas, but there was too much snow to go anywhere and he said he wanted to do what I'd normally do, which is go to the pub.  We've not spoken since.  I'm very angry with her, and feel like she's just been using me to get closer to him.  And for what?  So she can scare him off by doing whatever it is that makes men run away after a couple of weeks.

I'd promised her I'd sit her beside him at the meal.  Now that she's annoyed me, she can join my brother-in-law and brother at the horrible people table and M can sit with future husbands two very gorgeous single friends.  

In other grumpy news, I had my fitting today.  It's not great.  My dress needs few alterations - only £20 worth and that's to put something on it to bustle the train and attach the straps.  The bad news is that even after spending almost a year dieting, going to the gym and generally busting my butt trying to get slim, the fit is the same as when I picked it up in the first place.  And I swear I saw back cleavage!!!  Sob sob.  

Days to the wedding: 29 (to lose back fat!!)
Level of madness:  Epic.  I keep crying!

Sunday, 31 July 2011


Yesterday, I was meeting a friend for lunch in town.  On the way there, I walked past a hotel.  In the doorway were one or two very well dressed wedding guests and outside,  a piper.  I got a shiver up my spine and my first flash of wedding nerves as I realised that in 6 weeks, that would be us.

Sadly, due to the complete fuckwits that I have the misfortune to share a blood link with, I've been unable to enjoy it.

It started with a "regrets" from a friend.  I needed to find someone to replace her (we pay for 75 whether they're there or not).  I made what in hindsight is the biggest mistake ever, and asked my mum if she thought it would be a good idea to invite my aunts daughter as her plus one.  Since my aunt's husband left her for another woman 15 years ago she has rapidly become a proper, proper mental who spends her days running around after a very spoiled and highly strung dog.  Anyway, at the last family party, I attempted to engage her in conversation.  I'm pretty chatty, but even I gave up after a very painful 2 minutes, so I thought it would be helpful to invite someone she could talk to.  But even that wasn't simple.   She has a 13 year old son.  I enquired whether perhaps the 13 year old could stay at his dad's or with a friend.  Apparently he can't leave his mother's side so, as there had been another person unable to come, I (reluctantly) conceeded that he could come.  My mother conveyed this to my aunt.  Who then said " well, she has a boyfriend now...".  No!!  No! No! No! No!  He's not coming too.  If I conceed on that I'll end up having to invite his granny's hamster.  .Since I said no, they've been distinctly unclear on whether any of them are bloody coming.  Just say yes or no for fuck's sake.   I don't really want either of you there so if you don't come I wont cry over it.

Then my brother decided that I clearly wasn't stressed enough.  He has 5 kids.  All of them are Jeremy Kyle fodder but the youngest, phew.  He was the result of a short-lived failed marriage and my brother didn't see him until he was 15.   He's 16 or 17 now.  I've seen him once for about 5 minutes since he was a baby.  That being the case, I considered an evening invitation the best compromise (and I didn't even want to do that - this kid spent time in Young Offenders for his fire starting and thieving ways- he even set fire to my brother's house - his partner hates him).  On Friday, I got a text from my brother informing me that A. (his son) had not got his invitation.  I responded that that might be because the evening invites haven't gone out yet.  They haven't even been made yet, but that's another issue for another post.  He then asked why he was the only member of his family not to have been invited.  I responded that a. I can't pick him out in a line-up, b.  we're restricted for numbers and c.  it costs £65 each for additional day guests and we can't afford it.  A few whining texts later and he seemed to get it.  I got on with my work.

A few hours later, I got another text saying that they weren't happy that A wasnt invited all day because they are a familly, and if  I didn't pay for him to come, then none of them were coming.  I got so angry.  How dare he try to hold me to ransom like that.  I didn't tell him who to invite to either of his weddings.  I didn't throw a fit when I wasn't even invited to his son's wedding, and I've never brought up the fact that he hasn't even said thank you or sorry to me, for blowing my Highers, because I had to constantly babysit his other children and didn't have time to study.  I did keep my cool though.  I returned his text saying "Sorry you feel that way" and enquiring if that included him and his partner.  He said he still wanted to come to see his wee sister get married.  So errrm, not that much of a fucking family then.  I wouldn't mind if they were close, but they're not.  His partner can't stand A and wants nothing to do with him, all the kids moved out as soon as they turned 16, and I couldn't leave the invitations at his house, because they'd never get them.

I have no objections to them not coming.  They're a bunch of chavs and I'm glad I don't have to worry about them turning my wedding into the Jeremy Kyle show.  I have objections to the fit throwing, demands and tantrums over someone who is, essentially, a stranger to me.

How dare they try to tell me who to invite!!

Days to the wedding: 42 (or 6 weeks)
Level of madness:  Relatively normal given the circumstances
Level of anger:  volcanic. Do not cross me.

Sunday, 24 July 2011

Total Bridezilla moment/my future husband is stupid!

Really.  I swore I wasn't going to get caught up in Bridezilla colour scheme freakouts.  I lied.

Yesterday wasn't a good day.  I went to get my nails done and H2b took off with his best man and one of his ushers to get fitted for his kilt.  The other usher is in Australia, so it's not like they were being mean and leaving him out or anything.  I could have gone with them, but H2B has been all groomzillay about the colour scheme (more on than later) and his best man is a statistician so I thought it would be ok.

Anyway, nails all done, and having been informed that the boys would be heading to the pub to watch the days wendyball (football) action, I declared the day mental bride pamper day, got some lunch and brought it home.   My plan was to hook up the scanner to copy some photos for h2bs photo locket and watch some girly films, stuffing my face with the chocolate I'd picked up from the cadburys outlet and enjoy some alone time in the house.  Alone time in the house almost never happens because I work an hour away from where I live, h2b works 5 minutes drive away, and I work longer hours so he's here when I leave, and here when I get home.  I hung out the washing, put the tv on and had only just sat down to eat my lunch when in came H2B and his friends to comandeer the living room to watch football.  Apparently his usher's wife would have gone mental if he'd gone to the pub.  It doesn't matter if I go mental it seems!  She must be really crazy if  I seem like the less scary option!!

So, not best pleased, I exiled myself to the bedroom, making sure to eat my lunch as messily as possible on h2b's side of the bed.  And after football H2B came up to tell me about his kilt.

Now, some back story so that I don't seem really crazy.  I wanted to put my bridesmaids in emerald green.  I'd identified a gorgeous dress and they're both redheads so it would have looked gorgeous.  Then H2B said he wanted a burgundy rouche tie.  I didn't think that would work with the green so I switched to burgundy and the burgundy and ivory colour scheme was born.  Everything is burgundy and ivory.  The flowers, the bridesmaids, the ribbons on the junior bridesmaids dresses, the table decorations, the swagging, the balloons, the cakes, the invitations, even the dessert.  We were originally going to get cupcakes from M&S until H2B pointed out that they would not match the colour scheme.  Which is burgundy and ivory.  

Should be easy enough right?  Errm no.  Future husband decided that burgundy did not go with his kilt choice so instead of going for the ivory one, he chose purple.  Not even dark purple that we could pass off as burgundy in a dark room.  Bright purple.  Like cadbury purple.  I like purple.  I really like cadbury purple.  But not with my bugundy and ivory colour scheme.  It's all wrong.  I'd love to blame his friends, but they warned him he should call me.  He said he was his own man and could make the decision.  I have no idea where he got that idea!!!  Especially when he made the wrong decision.  He's going to look like he's at the wrong fucking wedding.  He'll clash with the bridesmaids. 

I was overtaken by the spirit of Bridezilla.  I got angry.  I accused him of ruining the wedding.  I cried a little (I swear I didn't do it on purpose - I was hormonal and annoyed).   Then I took a deep breath, calmed down a little, got some perspective and tried to approach it from a rational manner.  I pointed out the above statements about the colour scheme.  He denied all knowledge of the cakes not matching the colour scheme.  I asked if he could change to burgundy again.  He said it didn't look right with the kilt.   I asked why he didn't pick ivory and got a shrug and a stupid grin.  He said it can't be changed because he'll look like an idiot in front of his friends and the shop staff.  I told him that he was an idiot.  My mum took his side and said nobody will notice.  I told her I'd notice.  Purple is not burgundy.  She agreed, mainly, I think, to shut me up.

Then I looked at the bigger picture.   I'm not marrying the tie, I'm marrying him.  (Pity really, I'm willing to bet the tie isn't as stupid!  I mean, purple, ffs!!!)  As long as he's there and I'm there then it's ok.  (Purple?  Really? He's going to look like a magician!!).  I told him this without the bits in the bracket which I managed to keep inside my head and instead of being happy that I was no longer being a mental, he went on the offensive/"I'll be the martyr, you crazy bitch" and it resulted in me storming out of the house to get away from his stupid grinning  face and his stupid colour scheme ruining, magician purple tie.

Anyway, I did return after a bit and we've made up now.  I'm still not thrilled by the tie, but I guess in the grand scheme of things, it's not that important.  At least he's no longer planning to wear the Jacobean shirt and waistcoat that makes him look like Shrek.  But still....PURPLE????!!!!  Arrrgh.

I'm off to see if his mum can talk sense into him.  But she'll probably say the same as mine.

Days til the wedding:  49
Level of madness:   Purple?  I mean, purple.  FFS!!!

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

With just over 7 weeks to go...

....Arrrgh. 7.5 weeks!!  7.5 weeks!  3.5 til my dress fitting and despite practically moving into the gym, I still have a belly like santa and arms like a dinner lady who likes pies.

And none of my bloody friends are coming.  Of course future husband's oh so perfect friends are all coming (some of them for the free wine, I suspect), and he gleefully reminds me of this whenever I get yet another with regrets card.  I got one on Saturday from a friend who said she would be away and I actually cried.   Future husband very nicely hugged me and didn't call me a mental, before reminding me that all his friends are coming.  

And don't even get me started on people not RSVPing.  I made it easy.  I put in a card (albeit with 2 typos).  All you have to do is write your name on the card, score out will or will not, and send it back to me.  I put the address on it.  I also put both our mobile numbers on it.   I don't have psychic bride powers.  I don't automatically know if you're coming.  Just fucking be polite and answer me!! 

Due to a fuckup, we have loads of haribo.  I calculated each guest would need 50g of haribo.  Turns out we can only get 5 each into the bags and we have 6kg of haribo.  And they're staring at me in an eat me kind of way.  No, bad haribo.  I will not eat you.  I'm on a diet and I'd never hear the end of it if I ate all the favour sweets.  I'm already not hearing the end of it about our 6kg of the things.  It was my fault, but I shouldn't be trusted with quantities.  I over order. 

So, to recap.  I have loads of haribo, no wedding guests belonging to me and a future husband who mocks me and wants to go to Dundee to see Hayseed Dixie the night before our wedding.  And I look like an East German shotputter who got into the cakes.  But it doesn't matter as nobody will see me anyway.

Days til the wedding: 53 (bloody hell, eeeek and other fearful exclamations)
Level of madness:  Quite high, but I'm on a rush from my 322 calorie dinner, masses of caffeine and no chocolate.

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid...

...which wasn't "I love you" .  That would have been better than what I actually did say.  And now I don't know how to make it better.

Let me give you some background.  Future husband was quite close to his grandparents on his mother's side.  Not his father's though - they're not even invited to the wedding.

Yesterday, I was in a mood.  It started with me making the simple request, that as I was off to zumba in 30 minutes, would future husband mind making the pasta so I could eat before I went.  Somewhere this got lost in translation to boyspeak because, when I came downstairs after getting changed into my gym clothes, I was not greeted by a pot of bubbling pasta, or a plate of yuminess.  Future husband was in fact, in the garden fiddling with the lawnmower, leaving me with 20 minutes to cook and eat some pasta.

I headed off to zumba only to find that the class had been cancelled.  When I got home future husband was reading on the sofa.  I can't actually get him to get his nose out of the "Song of Ice and Fire" books and he wont bugger off upstairs and read them, so I can have some me time, perhaps to do wii zumba.  Anyway, anything I said to him met with a grunt.   This got me in more of a grump because I'd spent the previous evening emailing wwe superstars in the hope that one might send a word of congratulations.  This is a surprise for future husband, so he wasn't to know, but it didn't help matters.

What also didn't help matters is that sometime through the night he got a text and responded to it immediately.  So future wife and possible mother of his children = grunts and not listening.  Text = immediate reading and response.  This kind of lit the fire under my annoyance and turned it into anger, made worse when I found out it was one of his female friends texting.  Normally, it wouldn't bother me, but because of all the other stuff, I don't think I would have cared if it was his most butch friend rather than the female friend that he openly admits he thinks is gorgeous (she is too, the bitch - she doesnt have to go to the gym in a desperate last ditch attempt to not look like a dinner lady in a wedding dress). 

Anyway, I took a deep breath and managed to keep a lid on it.  Then I made the mistake of asking about the final 3 table names.  We'd planned to call the tables after personal things to us, like the name of the pub we had our first date in, and the name of the first film we saw together (sorry to those on the slumdog millionnaire table by the way).  We're 3 short.   Anyone who has read my previous posts knows of the folly of trying to get any kind of sensible answer from my fiance, so after 20 repetitions of the question and 20 stupid fecking answers (no, I am not calling a table at my wedding Fiesta, because we once had sex in one you moron!).  Anyway, (to finally link the second para), he suggested calling a table after his grandad.  Now, I'm not keen on the idea.  I'm not overly sentimental and I'm not overly enthralled with people sobbing over dead people I never even met at my wedding, but it means a lot to him so if that's what he wants, we'll have a table named for his grandad.  In fact, I've even arranged for his mum to find a photo of his grandparents to put in a keychain locket for him so they can be with him on his wedding day (Another surprise)  Now, instead of expressing it as I did above, which might still have been harsh, I put it even more harshly.  Now, please remember I was mad at him, tired, hormonal and fed up.  So instead of "Ok" which is what I should have said, what actually came out was "No, that's nothing to do with me!". 

Open mouth, remove foot.

I went to bed soon after and he stayed up to read his feckin book so I'm not sure he's forgiven me yet.  Hellllp!!!

Days until the wedding:  60
Level of madness: less than yesterday. 

Friday, 1 July 2011

My own worst enemy

Yup.  Stress is not making me any prettier.  I'm totally my own worst enemy when stressed.  I have 2 stress responses.  One is to sleep.  When I can't do that (my boss might frown upon me sleeping at my desk, although I still maintain that with our current software, me sleeping wouldn't make any difference), I move to the next, which is to abandon any kind of routine, healthy living, exercise or even drinking enough.  My skin gets dull and spotty, my hormones go out of whack, and I eat junk food and nothing but junk food.  I crave salt and sugar.

 And I'm so grumpy.  Grumpy enough that I worry that I'm going to make future husband not want to marry me, which makes me even more stressed and even more grumpy and I end up caught in a cycle of grumpiness and eating too damn much.  It's so stupid.   I know that drinking water helps me.  I like drinking water.  I'm very weird in that I prefer it at room temperature, but I can happily drink 3l of it a day.  When I'm stressed I drink fizzy juice instead.  That's bad.  Similarly, I know that knocking the stress out in the gym is a good thing.  I like the gym when I get there.  I feel great afterwards.  When I'm stressed, I can't make myself go.

I've got a few days off to relax and chill.  I'm munching the yummy cupcakes delivered by my cupcake maker yesterday.  When she said she'd make us up a couple of designs so we could decide what we want, I thought she'd bring 4, not 12.  And errrm, when she delivered them, she interupted us having a bit of intimate couple time, and I had to answer the door in my dressing gown at 2pm and she totally knew.  Blush and cringe.  Why do people always come to the door when we're having sex?  At least it wasn't as bad as the time his mum came around, midway through an impromptu couch session and I thought it was door to door sales so just hid under a blanket, and then she came in and stayed for ages and I was sweltering under the blanket, saying I couldn't get up cause I'd hurt my back. 

We've finally got the invitations back, written, addressed (well, those that I'm not waiting for people to get back to me with addresses on ), and the postal ones have been posted.  The others are waiting to be hand-delivered as soon as future husband decides he wants to get off his cute bottom and deliver them.

I'm annoyed with the cheating gits, errm, hotel, where we are holding our wedding too.  They gave us a menu, but turns out the prices on that are no longer applicable, and despite them putting up the prices, the amount we can spend on the food has not gone up.  So we now have to pay a supplement for our menu. Thankfully, I had budgeted more, so we're still within budget but it's so annoying.  At no point did they tell us the prices had gone up!!

Days til the wedding: 73 (how did it get to be July already?)
Level of madness:   High (but only cause of stupid venues increasing prices and making me feel like an idiot).

Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Stressy Stressy Stessy

I'm going mad.  Really.  Really, really properly mad.  As in wanting to punch my boss for eating his cereal too loudly, or kick my manager for talking to herself.  Weirdly, this has very little to do with the wedding, which seems to be coming together a bit, but everything to do with work.  Specifically a piece of work I was assigned two years ago, completed, then 6 months ago as informed it had changed.  I've been working on it solidly ever since.  What I didn't expect (although I should have) is that the software upgrade that was supposed to make our lives easier has made things 100 million times worse.  Not helped by my manager coding something that ate up all the system memory and destroyed our files.   Future husband is stressed also so there is no respite at home, especially since I told him he spent too much time in the mancave and he responded by spending every second with me.  I didn't mean he needed to be with me all the time.  I just wanted a hello as I came in the door or something.  Now I just want to send him to his room or something so I can have 5 minutes to watch rubbishy tv without it being switched to Sky Sports news or tennis.  

This is not good for weight loss.  I'd love to be one of those elegant women who go off food.  My future husband is stressed too, and he feels sick so doesn't eat.  I, on the other hand, eat everything that's not nailed down.  At this rate, Norwegians are going to try to harpoon me to make lipsticks.

In other news, we (finally) have our invitations, but there was another hold up when future husband declared that my handwriting wasn't good enough to write them so gave them to his mother, who decided she needed to practice.  Arrgh.  And another wobble when we argued over the meal.  Apparently the meat was too fatty for H2Bs liking so he wanted to pay more money to feed people we don't like.  We're already paying more for the red wine (the one provided was too vinegary) and tea and coffee (of which I drink neither) so I was refusing to pay yet another £5 a head for meat that was actually rather yummy.  We had a bit of an argument over that, after which he felt it was necessary to get me flowers and chocolate.   We've got our centrepieces and some bargain hurricane candle lamps from Tesco.  My new larger bridesmaid's dress has arrived.  

Days til the wedding:  74 (I think)
Level of madness:  Danger! Danger!  (but not the wedding's fault for once). 

Monday, 6 June 2011

Less than 100 days...

With less than 100 days to go until the big day, I'm struggling to find ways to keep feeling like we're actually planning this thing.  The trouble is, we've been far too organised and done everything so far in advance that there isn't much left.  We've sorted the cars, the venue, the dress, veil, and the tiara.  Our invitations are a work in progress, but they are in hand.  We tried on the rings last night. So what's left?

Well...there's the food.  Our menu tasting is next week and we needed to pick options for it.  But, after poring over the menu for hours, we came back to the same choices we made when they gave us the menu, almost a year ago.  So that took all of 5 seconds.

Wedding jewellery is largely sorted, as much as it can be without seeing it with the dress.

That just leaves me.  Having been relatively well behaved regarding the diet and the gym, and starting the new beauty regime, I can honestly say, with 3 months left to go, that I am not suddenly going to morph into Cameron Diaz.  Well, maybe her skin!!!   Sadly, I am not going to lose all the weight,develop 6 pack abs, and my backne is not going to miraculously disappear.   So why am I sitting her ignoring that last tasty Yorkie cookie and the yummy truffles that are calling my name with their siren songs.  Surely one can't make a difference?  Well, probably not.  Like I said, I can stop eating junk and spend my life in the gym, but I've reached that weight where my body fights me and between now and September, if I continue to be good, I'll probably lose 2-3lbs more.  So, no.  I have no idea why I'm not eating that damn cookie.  Maybe something to do with looking at the wedding pictures and knowing I did my best.  I'm not sure how that will relate to my Jabba the Hutt chins but I'll cross that (reinforced) bridge when I come to it.  Can you tell that I'm rubbish at dieting?

Days to the wedding: 97 eeep
Level of madness: cookies are speaking to me.

Wednesday, 1 June 2011

Slowly turning into Mark Henry....

Work has been incredibly busy and stressful these past 2 weeks, so bad in fact, that on Thursday I actually had to text my future husband and warn him to be nice to me when I got home, because I wasn't altogether sure whether I'd make it home without bursting into tears or lamping a random pedestrian for the heinous crime of walking too slowly.  I hate it when someone blocks the pavement and walks slowly anyway, so God only knows what I would have done had someone got in my way.  Thankfully I made it home without incident, received a big hug from future husband and then ate my bodyweight in chocolate.

Which brings me to the point of this.  Eating.  I've done far too much of it over the past week and have been trying to be good this week.  Not easy when one of my colleagues turned 30 over the weekend and decided to buy the whole bakery counter of Tescos for the team.  I'm not even joking.  There were mini doughnuts, cookies, flapjacks, cornflake cakes, galaxy chocolate cakes, rolos and several other yummy things.  He helpfully placed these on the empty desk facing mine.  Do you know how hard it is to resist that table of yumminess when all you've eaten is 2 bowls of porridge and everyone else is gleefully tucking in and making "Mmmmm" noises.  It's almost impossible.    I've managed to be good so far, despite the fact that I am absolutely starving.  I get the feeling though, that even if I ate all the crisps and chocolate and bowls of chips, or pasta in all the world, I'd still be hungry.  It's just that kind of week.

I need to keep on this though.  If I lose a pound a week, until my first dress fitting, that'll be 10lbs down, which might just make me look less like a walrus in a wedding dress.  Sadly though, some of the exercise has backfired on me and instead of making my arms all sexy and muscular a la Michelle Obama, I've managed to majorly bulk them up.   Seriously, I look like an anaemic, less beardy version of this guy.   It's not a good look on me.  And don't even get me started on what's happening to my bosoms!!

In other amusing news, I decided to attempt to give my pasty skin some colour. It was a stupid thing to do, as these things never work on me, but I never learn.   I purchased one of those moisturisers with a gradual tanner in and started applying it.  Two days, and one bright orange streaked leg later, future husband came downstairs, gave me a hug, and accused me of eating all the doritos.  I denied it because I hadn't.  Not that day anyway.   He said I smell like doritos.  I called him a mental.  Then I worked it out.   It's the self-tan.  So now he calls me nacho.  Thankfully he hasn't noticed the zebra leg.  I hate to think what he'd call me...

Days til the wedding: 103
Level of madness: Low.  I'm too hungry to care.

Wednesday, 25 May 2011

After the storm...

...comes the ash cloud.  Thankfully I'm not flying away anywhere so don't have to worry, but some of the ladies on the wedding forum are and they're understandably panicking.    Kind of puts things into perspective a bit.

Things have started moving a little, since my last post and our complaint.   We have sample invitations.  And the manager of our venue phoned H2B and did some apologising.  Later the same day the woman we've been dealing with called me to set up a menu tasting.  That was awkward.  She knew we'd complained about her.  I knew we'd complained about her but neither of us mentioned it.  It was a conversation peppered with forced "lovely"s and "brilliant"s.  The manager said that she was so good she'd been made a full time event planner.  Which begs the question, so good at what?  Cause if it's not answering emails and stressing me out, she's amazing!  No, no, mad bride.  You must be nice to the 12 year old event planner and not bridezillay!

The stress has died down but sadly, my stress related eating hasn't entirely vanished.  I'm currently a one woman soldier ant, if those are the ants which consume everything in their path.  Still. my first dress fitting isn't for another....2.5 months.  Oh my god!!!  Please let me stop eating everything!!!!!!   I'll stop.  Really.  I will.  After this flapjack biscuit.  And maybe a ripple when I get home. 

While I'm still ranting:  My mother.  I'm avoiding her.  Not because I don't like her, although I'm not keen on her cooking and she keeps issuing dinner invitations including the latest hilarious one:

My Mum:  I'm not feeling well....(enter list of symptoms and 30 minutes gushing  about the latest baby born in our family who is the ugliest thing ever!)....do you want to come for your dinner?
Me:  No.  You're not well and in no state to cook.
 My Mum: Well we've got food in the freezer.  You could cook your own dinner.
 Me: Yeah.  I can do that here.

 So why am I avoiding her?  Oh god.  It's her mother of the bride outfit.  I can't remember if I've complained about this already.  If I have skip this background.  Ok.  She saw a nice outfit in Debenhams.  My dad got all scrooge mcdad on her and put her off it, even though he'd give me the money.  I offered to take her shopping.  She went out without me and bought another outfit and didn't like it so took it back.  I offered again to take her shopping - she said in a month or 2.  In the meantime I've been scouring the internets looking for something that wont clash with my bridesmaids and will suit my dad's shallow pockets.  I found something really lovely and sent her the link.  She refuses to look at it.  I give up.  She can come in shocking pink zebra print for all I care.

Days til the wedding: 109
 Level of madness:  Not too bad, aside from my bloody mother.

Sunday, 22 May 2011


As there has been no response from crappy, rubbish venue I've been getting a bit antsy.  Especially as H2B has gone over to the dark side.  I don't mean that he's dressed as Darth Vader or doing heavy breathing ( well there was a bit of that, but as this is not that type of blog, we'll move swiftly on).  He's stomping about darkly muttering about there being no wedding.  Dark muttering is normally my territory, so I'm a bit lost on what to do when my role is usurped.  I can't possibly be rational can I?  So I've been employing distraction techniques. 

So far today I've taken my jewellery out and looked at it.  I actually found a necklace I'd forgotten I had so I'm quite pleased.  Where did phantom necklace come from anyway?  I don't remember it!  Did two of my other necklaces breed and create this one?  I tried on my tiara.  Not a great look with my tracky bottoms, bra and uncombed hair.  I think it's a look that will rock the bridal world.  This time next year all the brides will be doing it!

 I had a little cry, then a bigger one, when I realised I'd cried off all the pricey moisturiser I'd applied 2 minutes before I burst into tears for no apparent reason.  Then I turned into a giant termite and ate the contents of the kitchen.  That'll help with the wedding dress doing up then.  Back onto the diet and into the gym tomorrow.  Sigh.

I was trying to distract myself by convincing myself I wanted a dress for the night do bit, but the ladies who post with me on a forum for other mental brides (It's the only place where they understand dammit!!) have persuaded me to spend the money elsewhere.  Curse them and their sensible advice!!  So instead I purchased 3 pairs of earrings.  I needed them.  Really.  I couldn't decide.  I can't possibly know til I try it with my dress, so I needed all 3.  What if I only bought one pair and discovered they clashed?

Now that I can't eat any more food (there's only fruit left) and I can't spend any more money (don't have any) I'm comforting myself with ways I can mess it up if it all goes ahead.

1.  I could fall going down the aisle.  Not so far-fetched.  During my graduation, I was first of my course up on the stage.  That's not because I had the best mark, but because my name came first alphabetically.  I cleverly managed to lose my shoe and stumbled while I was climbing the stairs.  I'm assured that nobody noticed.  I think they'd notice if it was my wedding.  I'd probably take my dad with me and break his hip.  My wedding would go down in history as the wedding where the bride crushed her father!!

2.  Oooh this is bad.  I could let a massive loud fart slip out during the ceremony.    Again with the form.  I am ashamed to admit that I did the first trump of our relationship.  It just slipped out.  I got tired of waiting for  for my future husband who was then my boyfriend to leave so I could let the trapped gas out.  H2B would find it hilarious - but he's very much of the opinion that farts are funny.  I'm not sure my mum would be impressed though, and I'd turn a bright beetroot shade.  Oh the shame!!

3. I think I might spill my dinner down my dress.  This is based on previous form too.  I once went to a very posh work event, as the date of a friend.  This event involved wearing a ballgown and being a bit posh.  As soon as the meal was served I managed to drop my fork, splattering the front of my dress with gravy.  I had to stay like that all night.  Thankfully it was a financial services event so everyone in attendance was too drunk on the free bar/coked up to notice.  The dress was ruined.  Thankfully I wasn't overly keen on it anyway.  I don't think the friend who advised me to buy it had my best interests at heart.

I can think of thousands more but I think I've had enough humiliation for now. 

Saturday, 21 May 2011

Crappy, rubbish hotel

I know I promised to post about nice things but....

I need to rant again.  I just have to.  You see, it's our venue.  We looked at a few venues (well 3) in our price range before deciding on the one we chose.  The first was a local hotel and it was dire.  It was dark, and gloomy and filled with bad plastic plants and torn table linen.  It was also right next to the kitchen and all we heard for the 10 minutes we stayed in that venue (9 of them to be polite) was the microwave dinging.

The second venue was also local.  It was an arts centre, but it looked like a swimming pool and I didn't like the idea of getting married on a stage.  People will look at me!!

The third was a big hotel well known for its weddings.  H2B loved it because some people he knows worked there and I liked it becausse of the sweeping driveways, bar in the room and space for a ceilidh.  We couldn't find bad reviews and even though it was expensive, we decided to go for it and get married on a Sunday.  Sundays are cheaper you see.

I really, really wish we hadn't bothered.  Since we paid the deposit (muppets), they've been crap.  Crapper than crap.  Crapper than the little deposits that H2B leaves on the side of the toilet (how hard is it to go in the actual water?).  As we seem to be cursed, the first co-ordinator went off on long term sick leave.  Co-incedentally, so did our solicitor when we were buying our house.  Is there something about dealing with me that means people go off sick when forced to deal with me?  I'm actually quite nice, and not a scary dragon.  Anyway, the hotel didn't tell us about that, and it took a couple of weeks.  Then we got a nice, shiny new co-ordinator, who was all of 6 years old.  Am I just getting old?  She had a contract for us.  Only it was the wrong contract and I had to correct her.  Then I had to chase her for half a month to find out how much I needed to pay.  Obviously I was chasing her by email and telephone, not actually chasing her.  I have images of her running around the hotel grounds, me chasing her with a contract in hand.  It has the Benny Hill music behind it.

They said they'd get in contact 4 months before the wedding.  It's now 3 and a half and we haven't heard.  We've complained to the manager and I await their response.  Possibly in 6 years.  Which will be good, because our invitations might just be ready by then.

 Arrrgh, don't they know I'm a stressed bride.  I was stressed out enough about the invitations.  Stressed enough to warrant a dominos pizza.  I don't need any more grey hairs thank you and I certainly can't take another pizza.  My jeans wouldn't fit and I'll have nothing to wear.  And I have no money for any more because I've given it all to a rubbish venue who haven't mastered the art of emailing yet.  Just fucking tell me stuff!!! 

I can honestly see why people get on roofs with sniper's rifles.  I swear if they don't respond to this complaint, I will go down there, kidnap the events team and beat them until they organise my fucking wedding like they're supposed to.  I just want a room, and some chairs and some food and some wine.  That's it. That's all they're in charge of.   How hard can it be?

Anything else want to go wrong?  Please don't.  If I get any more wedding related hassle, I'll be found quivering in a corner, sobbing and painting with my own poo.   Why didn't we just go to a registry office and then tell everyone afterwards?

Thankfully H2B has just made me smile by fraping my facebook profile with the following "I'm a gooey lovey-dovey girly girl.  I wuv my H2B soo much".  

I'm turning into a proper bridezilla!!

Days til the wedding (if the hotel haven't forgotten we've booked): 113
Level of madness:  High.  Very high.  Almost volcanic. I'm threatening to beat people up ffs!!

Thursday, 19 May 2011

Invitation worries

You know that post about the royal wedding I did?  The one where I said a friend was doing our invitations and it was a good thing.  Well, I withdraw that statement.

Let me explain.  We'd originally had an offer from my line manager at work.  Her partner is a professional printer and she offered his services for the princely sum of a bottle of alcamohol and some biscuits.  So H2B asked his brother to draw something.  His brother is an artist (of piss-artist variety mainly).  H2B and his brother don't really get on, so this was a bad idea from the start.  A week or so later, when my future brother in law didn't even start H2B engaged a work colleague and his friend B. to make our invites.  As she supposedly has a side business, it didn't seem like too much of a gamble.

Fast forward a couple of months. She said she'd get us some samples ready by a certain date.  That date came and went, followed by what is now 4 weeks.   I asked H2B to politely move her along a bit because I want the invitations out in June.  Never mind June actually, I'd settle for them going out before the wedding because at over a month to produce one, she's going to have 3 completed by our wedding.  Which is great.  We'll just invite a maximum of 6 people.  Clearly she's trying to save us money.

So H2B passed the message on along with saying it was ok if it was too much for her.  Her response?  Was it "Oh I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been busy with the kids and work and I'll have something for you by the end of the week?"  Noooo.  Perhaps she admitted it was too much and apologised, leaving us free to find another option.  Nope.  Not that either.

Now prepare yourselves, my lovely readers.  This is great if you're not me.  Apparently I'm wrong to want my invitations to go out three months before my wedding.  I shouldn't be doing it until 2 months.  I'm sorry, did I ask your opinion on my wedding?  I didn't realise you were the queen of wedding etiquette.  I'll just bow to your greater knowledge shall I?  After all you've done this already.

Arrgh.   Yes, 3 months isn't standard, but neither is our wedding.  Its on a Sunday.  People will need some notice to get a day off on Monday.  We have people coming from as far as Australia.  They'll need notice too.  We're not inviting all the family children, so their parents will need to decide whether to find childcare and come, or not to attend, in which case, we'll need time to invite someone from the reserve list.  The hotel close the cheap room rate 6 weeks before the wedding, so say we wait til 2 months (we'll call it 9 weeks).  I post the invitations on Monday.  The post isn't delivered until Wednesday or Thursday.  So 8 weeks.  The person opens it post work, reads it and sets it aside.  7 weeks.  They look at it again but need to decide what they're doing/can afford to do.  6 weeks.  They mean to phone the hotel and keep forgetting.  5 weeks.  Cheap rate gone.

Now, if this was the first time she'd passed comment on my wedding, I would still be cross, but I could probably let it go.  It's not.  Back when we first started wedding planning, I was agonising over bridesmaids.  Apparently I picked too many because the top table is too big now.  It's my top table!!  If I want every fucking wedding guest seated at it, that's what I'll do.   Same with my invitations.  If I want them out 10 years in advance, made of ancient Egyptian papyrus, written in ink made from the blood of virgins and delivered by rare butterflies, then that's what I get.  She may privately think I'm crazy, she may think I'm wrong, but she will keep her mouth shut and nod and smile and just fucking do it!  Because I'm the bride!

To make matters worse, H2B has also engaged her to make painted wine glasses for our placenames.  I'm not sure how she'll do that if we have no fecking invitations, because how will we know which names to paint?

As it happens I've not made any demands, except to get some invitations to look at before my wedding.  I'm not much of a bridezilla but she's making me crazy.  Honestly,  I'm getting to the stage where I just want to invite everyone though facebook just so she'll piss off.

And breathe.....

Tomorrow, I should get my wedding necklaces.  They're waiting in the sorting office for redelivery.   That's a good thing.

Days until the wedding (not that it matters as nobody will get an invitation anyway): 115
Level of madness:  High, but I think it's justified.

Wednesday, 11 May 2011

4 months

Absolutely no progress but today is exactly 4 months to the wedding!!!!

In my office, we've worked out that one my colleagues of the same name and I are going to have the same last initial.  This is confusing to some people - they already mix us up.  But then again, I was talking to a consultant for a big software firm and he was amazed that 2 people in our very large organisation could have the same last name, so nothing should surprise me about how easily confused some people are. 

On the wedding front, I'm distracting myself by looking at pretty jewellery.  I've seen some very pretty necklaces on ebay.  Is it just me and my dirty mind or does everyone give a childish snigger when typing "Pearl necklace" into ebay!!  It's like I have Beavis and Butthead in my brain giggling away when anyone says anything vaguely double entendre-ish. 

Anyway, I've seen 3 or 4 necklaces I like from blingy to rather plain, and I have no idea which will go with my dress.  I can't even peek because my dress is living at my parents house, as H2B will have a peek otherwise.  Can I buy them all please?  Pretty pretty please?
Days to the wedding: 123 (4 months!!!)
Level of madness:  Thankfully off-boiling point now.  I'm just moderately mad. 

Sunday, 8 May 2011

Fed up now

Really, really fed up with this whole wedding thing now.

We've got just over 4 months to go and we're still in the same place we were 2 months ago.  Oh no, wait! We've chosen a song for me to walk down the aisle to. Well I say we.  I liked it and asked H2B and he showed the same amount of interest that he shows in everything wedding related, including me, i.e. none.  So I took that as a yes.  This is my song.

I've asked him to take dance lessons because I'm afraid of the first dance, and he's refused because that would take valuable time away from his computer.

His friend is making the invitations for free which is really nice of her, but I'm freaking out because I have no control over it and if they're horrible, I can't just say so.  And ideally, I'd have them now, but she hasn't even made samples.  They need to go out next month and she hasn't made one of them yet!!!  And I know it's a favour and everything and really nice of her but I'm panicking.

My bridesmaids are also showing no interest.   Not even in organising a hen night.  Plus I've had to order a new dress for my MOH, but I'm under strict instructions from my mother not to tell her because it'll upset her delicate feelings that she's not a size 10 anymore.  I've not been a size 10 since I was 16 and I'm not crying over it!!  This new dress has pushed me over budget on the bridesmaid's dresses.  The shoes also ordered in her size, don't fit her either because she's clearly a size bigger.  And she doesn't like the shrug either.   Plus, she's been posting on facebook that she wants to climb Ben Nevis in the same month.  I know I can't ask her not to, but it's just another thing that's annoying me.  She's meant to be supporting me through this and instead she's pissing off up mountains and making me over budget and I feel guilty that I'm getting married and ruining people's plans because she might not get to do it the weekend her friends are, and my brother is worried that my wedding will clash with his trip to New Zealand for rugby and might have to change his flights.

I am just feeling really low and alone.  I think my dress will look horrible, that my photos are going to make me look fat, that everyone else's weddings are going to be better than mine, and that mine is just going to be a total disaster because nobody but me cares about it and that if H2B would ever drag himself away from the computer and show some interest, I might feel a smidgen better.

I'm actually tired of talking about it.

Fuck it.  I'm off to eat my bodyweight in chocolate.

Days til the disaster of epic proportions wedding: 126
Level of madness:  High enough to want to run away to a convent.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

More wedding type weight stuff

Right so!  As my chest is no longer full of gunk, I have no excuse not to at least try to get my fat arse off the couch and onto the treadmill and so that's what I've been doing.  Junk food, and eating between meals is now banned, except for weekends where all bets are off.  I'm doing zumba.  My arms hurt, my stomach muscles scream everytime I move.  This better be worth it.

Why am I even doing this?  Future husband says he likes my body as it is.  He did mention something about more cushion for the pushin' and lovehandles before I threatened to smother him in his sleep, but he's a skinny man so we'll ignore him.  On a realistic note, I know I'm never going to be Kate Moss.  I'm already a healthy weight, so why do I find the need to strive towards a perfect set of abs (never gonna happen) or arms free of the dreaded bingo wings (again with the not happening thing)?  Photos.  Curse the photos.  I don't want to look back in them and see flabby arms or a beer gut, or my 500 chins.  Trouble is, even if I do manage to suddenly be all thin and model like (say there's a magic pill), I'm still going to look a bit special in the photos.  Even my best photos make me look like I have learning difficulties.

Plus, as always temptation is lurking around every corner.  Was it Oscar Wilde who said "I can resist anything but temptation".  Right there with you, big man.  Last week when I was being bad = no junk food in the workplace.  Today when I'm being good = cookies, cakes and security guards bearing cream cakes. 

Arrrrrgghhh.  Why couldn't I just have the good genetics?

Friday, 22 April 2011

Things my fiance has done to piss me off today...

1. Opening the door to the bathroom to chat to me while I was trying to do a poo (I got stuck in there when the lock broke once so I never lock it anymore).  He wasn't chatting to me for the hour before and the hour after, so quite while he felt he needed to chat to me then, I'm not sure.

2. Coming downstairs to "help" me put the shopping away.  This "help" involved bringing the bags the whole 1 metre from the sitting room and abandoning them on the kitchen floor.   As far as he's concerned, food magically transfers to the fridge from this position.  Presumably its the same kitchen fairies that do the washing up and steal his socks.

3. Refusing to give an answer when asked what he wanted for lunch, meaning I had to list every lunch food in the kitchen, despite him having seen what I'd bought at the supermarket.

4. I said I wanted pizza for dinner, then asked if he fancied takeout or frozen pizza he kept saying "pizza!"  The conversation went like this "I fancy pizza for dinner.  Do you think we should get takeaway or be good and eat the frozen stuff?"  "Pizza!"  "Yes, pizza.  Takeaway or frozen?"  "Pizza".  "Fine, lets do takeaway.  Dominos, Pizza hut or the chippy?"  "Pizza".... Repeat ad infinitum until I poked him in the belly button and stomped out of the room, only for him to follow me chanting "pizza" at me. We eventually had frozen because otherwise I would have killed him.
(I should add at this moment in case you get the wrong impression, that I'm marrying a reasonably intelligent 29 year old man, who holds a degree from a reasonably high quality university, not a very slow toddler)..

5.  I don't know why I bothered but I asked him about music for the wedding.  See the above point for the type of response I got only with some extra singing.

6.  He ran down my phone battery playing Angry Birds.   He does this constantly and he's broken my feckin phone charger..  Adimittedly I could take it upstairs but I'm lazy.

Ok, he's not killed anyone, but it's the constant drip-drip of annoying things that make me want to send him back to his parents house for good.  The worst part is that he knows that I lose my temper when I get frustrated and he finds it hilarious when I have a strop, so he does things deliberately to annoy me.  If you want an idea of how annoying it is, imagine living with Peter Griffin at his most childishly petulant and annoying.

Arrrgh.   Do I really want to marry this man?  Sadly, the answer is still yes, although I still maintain that if I snapped and killed him, no jury in the land would convict me.  Why are men so annoying???

Days til the wedding:  142 (if I decide to go through with it!)

Wednesday, 20 April 2011

It's infectious

It's true.  My groom to be has also come down with weight worries.  He's a skinny creature who doesn't gain much weight, but his baby brother was teasing him about his paunch.  That and my repeated phwoaring over HHH (if he will make me watch WWE I will punish him for it by drooling over the cavemen type wrestlers) seem to have pushed him to start doing situps.  Proper situps.  Not the pathetic girly crunches I do.  Now he's going to get all fit and lose his lovely podgy tummy and girls will chase him and he'll realise he can do much better than the mentalist with the crazy hair that he lives with.

I'm sure at some point he'll come to his senses and shriek "Oh my god, what was I thinking!!!!" and run away very speedily.  In my mind it's a bit like cartoon running.  He's suspended in mid air with his legs bicycling away and then he jets off.   As long as he doesn't do it when I'm walking down the aisle!

On a wedding panic note, I just got porridge in my hair.  I had some on my hand and I brushed the hair out of my face.  I'm going to have to ban gravy at the wedding meal or get a bib like a toddler, otherwise my dinner will end up all over my pretty dress.

Oh and hello to my first follower!!  I feel all special now. 

Days to the wedding:  144
Level of madness: Still pretty damn high.  Curse you porridge!!

Tuesday, 19 April 2011

Wedding wobbly bits

As the days inevitably edge closer and closer to the big day, I start to panic a little bit more and never more so since I fell off the diet wagon into the Easter egg pile.

Let me explain.  I was doing the carbohydrate addicts diet which meant I ate protein only for most of the day then had a whole hour at night to eat whatever I wanted.  It worked a bit - I lost 8lbs then the weight loss stabilised and the carby food looked more and more tempting and I got sick of bacon (never, ever thought that was possible).  The worst part was that it gave me dog breath.  Horrible, stinky dog breath that meant future husband refused to kiss me.  On the occasions he absolutely had to he'd make a face.  So my body was looking better but what's the point when my future husband didn't want to show affection any more?  Since I've come off it, I've been celebrating by eating everything.  Including all the Easter Eggs and errm some more easter eggs. Shame! Shame! I'm so ashamed.   I've even been driven to looking at diet pills before common sense kicks in and tells me that if these things worked everyone would be skinny.  Imagine a world where everyone was skinny.  Even Santa!  I'm  not sure I like the idea of a skinny santa.

As my chest is stillfull of gunk, I'm excused from exercise until it's better so i can't even make myself feel better by hitting the treadmill.  And I've just booked my dress fittings.  Eeeeeek. 

They're going to have to roll me down the aisle like a less purple Violet Beauregarde.  Well, I did threaten to dress my bridemaids as Oompa Loompas....

Days to the wedding: 145 (to get my bottom into shape).
Level of madness:  High (saved from total lunacy by the odd lucid moment).

Friday, 15 April 2011

Why my budget wedding will be better than the Royals

Ok, I'll admit that I was a bit piqued when Kate and Wills announced their engagement and intention to marry in the same year as my wedding.  I was irritated that despite having been engaged first, and already planning our wedding, they'd be able to have one on a bigger scale, and more quickly.  Then I was incensed when the press started on about their wedding being responsible for every other wedding that came after it.  Errm no.  It's just that we less rich and privileged couples need time to save for the wedding and even then we have to make concessions.

And these concessions hurt.  I didn't expect that!  I expected the odd twinge of jealousy, but not the way that realising that you just can't afford something you've always dreamed of hits you like a train. 

That aside, I still think we're having more fun than the famous wedding couple.  OK, they wont be compromising on the material side of things, but who's to say this is what they want.  I saw an interview with Prince Harry on the news in which they asked about the wedding.  He looked really restless like he just wanted to go and shoot at stuff.  Harry is my favourite Royal just because he refuses to act as anything other than he is - a young guy.   Anyway, in the interview he said something along the lines that they would have prefered a small, quiet wedding but they are who they are.  So who's to say Kate isn't quietly seething because she doesn't want all the celebs there?

Not having a big budget can make wedding planning challenging but it's a lot of fun.  Kate is missing out on the joy of bargain hunting for her wedding.    I'm still riding high on getting a pair of shoes that cost £80 in the shop, brand new off ebay for £13.  Turns out they're the perfect height for my dress and everytime I see them, I grin.  Likewise, I managed to get 20% off the dresses for my flowergirls, and my veil cost a quarter of the amount the bridal shop were charging.

With so many suppliers lined up to provide services for the wedding, they'll miss out on finding out just how talented family and friends are and how far they're willing to go to help.  We've got aunts taking care of the flowers, a friend designing the invitations, my bridesmaid is doing my makeup, and my future husband's friend's wife will be doing my nails.  I've been knocked off my feet by how much people we care about have been willing to help, from my parents paying for my dress and cars "No daughter of mine will be wearing a dress that someone's had sex in", to my in-laws paying for our honeymoon.   With a limited budget, people taking the time and paying the money out to come and join us on our big day also means so much, be it the family members coming from a city 50 miles away, or the friends announcing their intention to fly over from Australia as soon as we announced our engagement.

The ring too.  My ring may not have cost the earth. It might not be from a deceased family member, but it's mine.  I didn't pick it, husband to be did.  He actually wanted to propose 6 months earlier but had to wait for his bonus (no, he's not a banker)  to be able to afford it.  Then he went and carefully chose something I'd like.  He knew enough to know that I wouldn't want a solitaire diamond because most people have those.  He found out my ring size and it fit perfectly and it meant so much that he'd done all that work.

On the day of the wedding, poor Kate is going to be subject to such intense scrutiny.  What's she wearing?  What does her hair look like?  Does she cry?  She'll get the inevitable Princess Diana comparisions which is dumb because she's not her, it's a different day, a different age, and hopefully Prince William isn't marrying her wishing she were someone else.  If there's any hint of back fat, bingo wings, anything less than perfect she'll be slagged off in all the papers.  It's expected that I wont look perfect and any bitchy comments will be made out of earshot and I'll never know.  Kate will have constant reminders in every newspaper for weeks, months and years.

At our wedding, I'll be spending a lot of time in the receiving line (at the insistence of my future husband and my mother).  I'm not looking forward to that but it's less than 80 guests.  With thousands of guests Kate and Wills will be standing there for hours, their faces sore from smiling, desperate for a drink.  They'll never manage to get round everyone, whereas I'll be able to freely mingle and dance with the majority of my guests.

Ahh guests.  Another place where although not perfect,  at least I wont have to worry about being upstaged.  There will be nobody famous at my wedding.  My prettiest friend is not a bridesmaid (not that I've picked munters, I just went for family members).  Nobody will be wearing an outfit that cost more than mine.  I hope nobody else will show up in white or ivory. 

So,  while our wedding might still be a fair way away and on a budget, it's ours. Our music, our cake choice, our dress choice, our guest list, our families joining into one extened alliance. Ohh what a scary thought.

Days to the wedding: 149
Level of mentalness:  Low (apart from thinking my wedding is better!)

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

The green eyed wedding monster

I'm not the most rational of people at the best of times and this wedding thing...phew.  It's bringing out the worst.

It seems that when we got engaged we acted like a stick of dynamite, triggering a reaction amongst family and friends of a similar age.  Suddenly, everyone and their aunt is getting married and I want to stomp my feet and scream "no fair!" over and over.   To be fair, a friend of Mr Mental Bride kicked it off by running off to get married in Vegas, but to make me seem less crazy, I'm ignoring that.

Most of these weddings I can deal with, but there's just one that's making the green eyed mental bridezilla in me just seethe with loathing.  Everyone has one of those mega-competitive friends.  In this case, anything I can do, she can do better.  I have a headache, so does she, no wait, it's worse than that! It's a migraine! No a brain tumour! I get a new job and she reminds me that I was rubbish at that subject in uni.  I'm sure we all know the type.  Sometimes I have fun making up crazy scenarios for her to top.

After Mr Mental Bride went down on one knee I knew it would drive her nuts and she nagged her OH until he also proposed (at Christmas natch).  To be fair, he probably would have eventually done it anyway.

Anyway, I was worried they'd have their wedding before us, but no.  They're having it almost a year to the day after ours.  In Venice.  Then a party when they get back.  As she never asks a thing about my wedding, I quietly seethe everytime she mentions hers.   Every email or facebook post.

No idea why I'm so pissed off.  It's not like our weddings are similar or anything.  I just wanted to be special for a bit....

Told you I was a crazy!!

Days to the wedding: 151
Level of craziness: Moderate

Monday, 11 April 2011

Karma has come...

...to bite me on the arse.  After all my moaning about hubby to be's manflu, I've only gone and come down with it.  And it's a doozy.  My nose is running like a leaky tap, my throat is ouchy and I'm coughing hard enough that I fully expect to spit out a bit of lung at any moment.   

In wedding planning world, we were at the in-laws for dinner last night and mother in law to be handed me a stack of very 80s flower arranging books, which I admit, I only looked at to be polite.  Flicking through one, I came through the perfect flower arrangement for my centrepieces - square vases filled with cherries and another vase in the middle holding roses.  It sounds strange, it looks really nice and if we can pull it off on budget, it'll match the colour scheme. Woohoo.

Days to wedding:  5 months or 153 days!  Eeeek.

Friday, 8 April 2011

In sickness and in health? Really?

Really?  I have to love him even when he's ill?  Ok, I can probably just about manage that, as long as there is no expectations that I actually have to like him when he's ill.  Oh dear.  Manflu has arrived at the house of impending wedlock. 

Now, I'm an IT bod.  I work mainly with men, so I know how hardy they are.   However, my chosen mate, turns into a petulant four year old when ill, requiring vast amounts of lemsip, cuddles and backrubs.  And he refuses to swallow pills.  Last time he was ill, he had a virus that caused his temperature to skyrocket to the point where I could have used him to defrost the freezer.  As he refused to take pills I trotted off to the supermarket and bought some calpol. Calpol costs more than a pack of paracetomol and I got moaned at for buying him children's medication!!!  This time, I'm losing patience. He's had the cold for a couple of days.  Today, I took an early finish from work to take care of him.  I arrived home, brought him some juice only to be told off because it wasn't in the fridge.  It's his juice!!  If it's not in the fridge, nothing to do with me.  So I had to take the juice downstairs and get him some OJ.  Then when I brought it back up to him,  I got moaned at again because it interupted his wrestling watching.  Only the presence of an electric blanket and my laziness stopped him from getting the a shower in the fecking juice!!!

In my more broody moments, I remind myself that I don't need a child.  I've already got a 6'2" toddler.


Days to wedding:  156 (maybe).

Tuesday, 5 April 2011

In just over 5 months...

...I will be walking down the aisle.  Well, not exactly an aisle as such - the whole not believing in God things puts paid to the big church wedding no matter how pretty the buildings might be.   More an area in a hotel function suite with no chairs and a bad carpet.  We're paying them ridiculous amounts of money - you'd think they'd lose the ugly carpet.  Even bare floorboards would be preferable.  I'm not sure about the carpet.  It makes me sad in a way in which only orange and brown carpets can.

Anyway, sorry.  I'll be walking down the aisle accompanied by my proud father, to be joined in errrm unholy matrimony to a man who claims he loves me although he prefers to spend all his time with his mistress, Football Manager 2011. By spending all his time with his computer, he doesn't see how mental I am, which I think is why we're still together.

My father will be vacillating (is that the right word?) between being proud of giving away his youngest daughter to a good Catholic boy and joyful that he finally gets to do this, me showing disturbing tendencies towards spinsterism.  Truth is, my abject refusal to allow my parents to get anywhere near any of the miscreants and fuck-ups I dated through my 20s, made my parents and siblings believe that I would soon acquire 20 cats and be crazy cat lady (I tried, but I'm allergic) or that I was a lesbian.  Again, I tried, but kissing girls didn't do much for me, except in the non-stubble rash way - although I do appreciate the free exfoliating I get when my future victim, sorry, husband, hasn't shaved.  Anyway, back to this aisle.  I will be walking down it in a dress that makes me look like a queen from a bygone age, flanked by bridesmaids that have done nothing to help me with the planning (bitches!!!)  and worrying that I'm going to fall flat on my face in front of 75 or so of our nearest and dearest (the maximum we can afford to pay to feed).   I say nearest and dearest.  I mean, those family members that I don't like and never see but that I have to invite to keep the peace, at the expense of people I actually like.  But that's a different story for another day.

 This is where this diary comes in.  You see, I've been having these Bridezilla type moments.  Not the usual type "omigosh, the colour of the napkins is a tiny bit different from the colour of the favour bags" moments, because life is just too short and I don't care.  More the "ohmigosh, my brother's kids are a group of Jeremy Kyle rejects, and they'll embarass me at this posh event and could I not just go back in time and put sterilising pills in his water supply and save society" type thoughts.  As it would cause offence to them, I plan to express these thoughts here, where nobody can judge.

Days til the wedding: 159