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