No, I know how I lost my virginity. It’s my soul that I’m currently missing…
I don’t know exactly when it went missing, but I had to have been born with one, so I’m guessing I lost it within the last 20 years. The first six seemed pretty soulful. But now that it’s gone, I want it back. At least for a while. I can always just sell it later on ebay…
Seriously…I know I’m a little (lot?) crazy, but the wedding planning has proven that I have no soul. I’m getting hitched in 5 days…FIVE DAYS, and I’m not even the least little bit excited. Stressed? Oh hell yes. I love my fiance, but he has been 92.73% USELESS this entire time. He hasn’t been at his new job for a year yet, so he doesn’t get paid time off…meaning that he can’t take any more time off than the week for the honeymoon…meaning that ALL the final details fall on my shoulders. Like all the initial details and big ideas did…except the one that landed us in this mess, which was the big idea to have a wedding in the first place.
What did the reverend say to the melon? You cantelope.
I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how many times that joke runs through my head every single day. Some days I wake up saying “can’t elope, can’t elope” over and over again in my head. As horrible as this sounds, I actually harbor resentment towards my future husband for insisting on having the wedding and dumping all the work on me. That’s the worst thing that possibly could have happened, but here we are.
Normal girls with souls ADORE weddings. They smile and squeal and glow when the subject is broached. I, on the other hand, wince and ask that we never speak of it again. I have asked my entire office to pretend like nothing is happening and to stop asking me if I’m nervous, excited, ready, stressed, etc. I’m pretty much just pissed about the whole thing. Would someone with a soul really feel that way? I think not.
Here’s why I’m not cut out for this shit: I’m a perfectionist and I work in the graphic design industry (on the writing side, but I still do press checks). That means that I am trained to see flaws in everything. As a pessimistic perfectionist by nature, this training is to the detriment of anyone who attempts to help me with anything. I feel like a failure if every little detail is not just so…and I hate being so picky. I am incredibly grateful for the help I received from my friends and family through all of this, and incredibly sorry that I have been such a baby about it all.
My family keeps telling me to stop stressing and enjoy this final week. This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life, and yet, not even the thought of finally being married can bring a smile to my face. The thought of punching a few of the groomsmen does, but that’s another story. I feel like I don’t even know who I’m marrying. This last week or so has been fraught with arguing, and I’ve been so busy that we haven’t had much time together. Mr. T spent the whole of yesterday praying to the porcelain gods, so he was anything but helpful.
I’m tired, I’m broke, I’m so busy I can’t get my head to stop spinning and I’ve been puking after almost every meal. And I’ve got the squishy poo…I upgraded from full-on hershey squirts yesterday, but my plumbing still leaves a lot to be desired. If it’s not coming up, it’s shooting down, and I’m tired of cramps and headaches. The worst part…my heart is breaking that Grandma isn’t here. If she could just flip me the bird one more time, I’d be so happy. But no…I’m spending my last few days of preparations picking out which picture of her I want on my bouquet and next to the memorial candle. It’s not fair. If I’m this emotional five days out, how am I going to survive the actual day?
I want to be happily in love, excited about my wedding and not mourning the loss of my favorite person. Is there a drug for that? If so, could you drop some by my house? Maybe I should eat some catnip, that always seems to perk Kitty right up…
Please come back to me. Just for a couple of weeks. It’s okay if you wait until tomorrow night to return – I understand that my undercarriage resembles some sort of mutant wildebeast, but that will be resolved tomorrow at seven. And when you come back, please bring Xanax. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.