Honeymoon photos are now up at my Flickr account. Lunchwagons! Canadian street markets! Doug Henning's house! Woo!
For reasons of privacy, most of the pictures of the Rev and I are limited to friends and family only. If you have a Flickr account and want to be added to that list, let me know.
As far as wedding photos, for now you'll have to content yourselves with the ones our kind friend Steve posted on his blog.
There's a new ring on my finger, our living room is full of boxes, and I no longer have a reason to call my caterer. So I guess it wasn't just a dream—the Rev and I really did get married last weekend.
I can't speak for our guests, but for us it was...wow. A lot of wow. Everything fell into place, I didn't worry once about my dress, and we even got some cake. Can't beat that with a stick.
More details after the honeymoon. Remind me to tell you about the seagulls.
Thanks, world, for offering yet another example of why I should keep my maiden name after marriage.
One of my co-workers got married last year. Before the event, she wanted her name to appear on reports as "Jane Q. Smith." Fine, can do. After the event, she chose to take the name of her husband, Mr. Brown. Well, sorta... I think the idea was that her maiden name would now be her middle name. This would normally not be a problem. Not settling on one version of your name—very much a problem for me.
At various times since the wedding, she's asked that her name be printed as: Jane Q. Smith Brown, Jane Smith Brown, Jane S. Brown, or Jane Brown. The "correct" version seems to change about every two months.
Just today, she asked that we use Jane Smith Brown, and 10 minutes later said to use Jane S. Brown. And she can't figure out why people can't keep it straight.
So I was doing much better with the whole body image thing. I really was. Working out, feeling good, my-life-is-a-Special-K-commercial, blah blah blah.
Then, Fourth of July. I'm out with a friend. By way of backstory, Friend is a) very skinny and b) the child of an intensely weight-focused mother. As in, her mother will openly stare at fat people because they're just so fat. We have had very few discussions about weight and bodies. It doesn't come up, possibly by design.
We're downtown on a warm day and happen to pass a roundish woman who's wearing a fairly revealing top. Low cut, plus, under the bustline her top is designed to split open and show her belly button. I had no problem with the belly part; my quarrel would be with showing just so much—pick one feature or the other, but not both. Too distracting.
Friend finds it "disgusting" that the woman would let her belly "hang out like that."
Oh boy.
Thus ensues a discussion about body image, in which I mention that I have been working on my weight for the wedding. Friend's response: "That's good. I wasn't sure if I should say anything--if you were planning to do something, or if you...had just come to a point where you were OK with it."
Er. Yeah.
At the time, I thanked her for not saying anything, discussed my recent dress issues, and let the remark go. But ever since, it's been like...fuck. Because the more I think about it, the more it sounds like she said, "I wasn't sure if you were planning to be less fat, or if you were just OK with being fat." I mean, that's what it boils down to. And now I'm wondering what this friend—who I have known for years—truly thinks of me. I wanted to involve her more in the wedding, but now it feels like that would just invite negativity, and my mother already handles that territory. I know the next time I see her, it will be on my mind the whole time.
So I'm stuck. I don't want to see a long-time friend AND I feel like I moved back five spaces on the self-esteem board.
Like...fuck.
Updated with my sister's response to this posting:
"HEY. Why are you going to let that get you down? She has issues herself. We ALL do. And whatever way her issues cloud her judgment about your appearance or about how not to stick her dumb foot in her mouth and say things that she doesn't see as hurtful but are is NOT your problem. F.her if she doesn't like how you look. But I tell you - that's more about her than about you - and you KNOW that. PLUS, you are working towards a goal and doing what you need to do to feel better on that day. So, you won't be a size 2 walking down the aisle? So Fing what? You handled it perfectly. The next time she says something maybe you should tell her to keep her skinny _s_ opinions to herself."
She's like the superhero of sisters, she really is.
So I met yesterday with the dressmaker. It was the first time I would get to see The Dress in the right fabric, with the alterations we made last time. I was nervous—like going-to-the-doctor nervous—because I knew that if I still hated it, I would need to seriously rethink some things.
I loved it. The color works well with my skin, and the fabric absolutely throws off light. Even the changes we've made to the original style are working. It made me feel pretty and elegant, like I was getting in touch with my inner 1930s socialite.
We did have one, uh, situation to resolve. The original dress had been made of a very stretchy fabric. The new dress is satin—not stretchy. So the sections that used to stretch to cover my top half now covered about half that. It was a revealing moment. But a solution is being worked out and I will see it next weekend.
Even better news: My maid of honor loves it. She's also my sister, and gorgeous, blessed with a style gene the rest of us in the family are missing. So her opinion carries a lot of weight. And I know she'd tell me if she hated it—oh, she would tell me.
But she doesn't. She highly approves, and I highly approve, and this means there will be no last-minute scramble to find a new dress. Thank God. And thanks to everyone for the lovely comments last week. They made me feel so much better. You guys are the best.
Specifically, the issue of The Dress is starting to take over my brain, and my self-esteem.
I went into this whole wedding thing knowing that I had a few long-standing body issues. I even decided early on to ignore the whole wedding dress industry and have my gown made, based on a dress that already looked good on me. I’d heard too many horror stories about stores that don’t even stock my size in the samples, I wasn't convinced that a standard dress was what I wanted or worth the money, and I hated the way "plus size" wedding dresses looked. So I chose an alternate route.
I think, despite the best efforts of my maid of honor and fiancé, I am now upgrading to full-fledged Body Issues.
They really kicked in after my second dress fitting. Mind, we were just fitting the fabric pattern pieces on me, so it wasn't the same fabric or color that would be in the final dress. It's like the schematic--not anywhere close to the final product, but it gives you an idea of where you're going. We even took pictures, and I thought it looked good.
Then I got home, saw the pictures again, and realized I looked...square. Shapeless and blocky. I didn't even show anyone the pictures. And ever since then I'm wondering if I picked the wrong kind of gown.
Please note: This has nothing to do with the dressmaker. She is very talented, and is putting an awful lot of effort toward turning my vague instructions into a real, actual gown. This is all about me, second-guessing my dress choice, wondering if I should have just given in and tried a few things on in bridal salons, and feeling (not always, but sometimes) like Ms. Big Bride Who Everyone Can See is Huge, Can’t You?
Even the most well-meaning comments about how "Everyone can’t wait to see what the bride looks like"—I get nervous just remembering them. My photographer’s motto? "Always know where the bride is." Which is, naturally, his job and why we’re paying him. But I still try not to think about being in so many pictures.
Which is all somewhat ridiculous because A) I’m apparently supposed to want the attention and B) I am making an effort to eat better, exercise and feel good about myself, which is helping, and C) I shouldn’t be so freaked about how I will look on one day for 8 hours. I am more than that.
Oh, and D) He would love me if I showed up in T-shirt and shorts. Because God knows, he’s seen me look much worse.
I look forward to the wedding and being with everyone, but I also look forward to the end of September when I can have my brain back and don't have to stress about these things anymore.
(And my Lord, my sister is going to kick my butt when she reads this. Sorry, Nicole. :)
And we finally scored some free stuff!
First: Last night--met with our baker to finalize the cake flavors. At the risk of spoiling the surprise...
Plus a sweet table with a ridiculous number of various pastry wonders. Plus fresh fruit. If someone can't find dessert in all that, they are beyond our help. Also--the evil that is fondant (that icky funky smoooooth stuff you see covering some wedding cakes) will not be allowed to darken our celebration. Buttercream all the way, baby.
Free stuff! We had an evening appointment, at about the time they were cleaning up for the day. Would we like to take home some croissants that would otherwise go to waste? Heck yeah. Bagged four free croissants (some filled), a brioche, and a scone. Sweet!
Second: Invitations are nearly complete, thanks to the fabulous invitation crew that came over on Memorial Day weekend. We just need to print the map cards, add postage and addresses, and get it all in the mail.
Third: I found out this morning that two very longtime family friends--who I was sure would not make it--will be coming to the wedding. These people have known me since before I started grade school. I am gratified beyond words that they'll be there.
This weekend, on the phone:
Me: ...and I haven't decided if I'm going to wear a veil yet...
Him: A veil??? Why not just wear a burqa?
Most awesome father of the bride, ever.
Number of possible invitation designs devised: 19
Number that we actually liked enough to maybe send out: 3
Invitation we both liked the most: #19
Dress meetings: 1
Dress freakouts: 1
Number of hip-hop songs that happen to feature the groom’s last name: 1
This fact noted by vendors: Once, so far.
Vendors we now own half of (thanks to deposits): Photo guy; DJ guy; cake guy; museum.
Vendors I should get deposits to before they desert us for cooler, more exciting and time-aware couples: 3
Number of people who have offered to run interference with my mom on the day of the wedding: 2
Number who have actually met her and know what they're in for: 1
New things my mother has found fault with or been disappointed in: 3. Cake colors, lack of bouquet/garter toss, and bride's potential shoe color.
Number of people involved in discussion over whether or not the bride could wear pale blue shoes: 5
Number of involved people who would actually be wearing said shoes: 1
Honeymoon location: Toronto.
Number of times this has resulted in extraneous "ehs" and butcherings of the Canadian national anthem: Oh, lots. Eh.
Number of registries: 2; Bloodbath & Beyond and Hate & Quarrel.
Incidents of bridal tinkering with online registries: A couple. Maybe twice. Or three times. Whatever.
Number of sit-down meetings insisted upon by groom, re: new and allegedly "useless" stuff mysteriously appearing on the registries: Once. So far. Eh.
Bridal Anxieties: Dress; invitations; DIY flowers; setting up and taking down of wedding decorations.
Groomal Anxieties: Finding a nice quiet rest home for his bride, preferably one with occasional visiting privileges and no sharp objects. Also, mother-in-law.
So. Remember when last we spoke, about how the wedding colors had been mutually agreed upon?
Hahahahaha.
