Wednesday, September 8, 2010

30 days until the wedding!

And high time for a grouchy rant.  
What on earth has taken me this long??

 1.      Original idealistic intentions for strict diet and exercise routine have fallen by the wayside.  

Am now faced with the horrific reality of having to look at myself in wedding photos until the end of time while recalling in vivid, Technicolor detail, my carefree consumption of ice cream, potato chips and hamburgers when I should have been daintily nibbling on lettuce leaves and bran flakes.  

Jenny Craig will probably hunt me down and force me into some kind of dietary concentration camp until I learn my lesson.   This hellacious purgatory will no doubt include plenty of Sweatin’ to the Oldies while a butch drill sergeant named Pat berates me for my indulgent indiscretions and shames me to tears over my pants size as I Jazzercise my way into a hypoglycemic coma.

2.     Alterations on wedding gown actually exceed cost of wedding gown.  A jaw-dropping moment as hilarious and fun-filled dress fitting at the home of the alterations lady suddenly screeches to a halt when she announces with a straight face that the minimal alterations needed will run approximately $400.  

We are forced to sign a contract and promise to pay in cash only.  Words failed me, which was probably a good thing, because the alternative was to schlep Christina and her dress to other alteration places around the county until we found a better deal.  Which may or may not have happened.  Who has the time and/or patience at this point?  Pay the lady and assume that she is padding a secret retirement fund with the spoils of her lucrative racket.  I will no doubt see her on a future episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, sipping cocktails on her yacht which I unwittingly helped pay for.

3.     R.S.V.P. cards slowly trickling in, despite the clearly printed return-by date of September 10th.  Visions of hours spent on the telephone calling people I don’t know dance through my head.  

Terrifying thoughts of hastily assembling a seating chart the night before the wedding makes my blood run cold (taking into consideration the assorted extended family members who refuse to sit next to, look at or acknowledge the existence of one another).  No wonder logical people hire wedding coordinators to manage this nonsense.

4.     After viewing the wine list at the reception venue (in which the least expensive bottle of white wine is priced at $28), we toss around the idea of bringing in a few cases of our own wine, namely the “Two-buck Chuck” made popular by Trader Joe’s grocery stores.  Check with catering manager and learn that the “corkage fee”, “serving fee” and “tax” for us to import our own booze will be……drum roll……$20 per bottle.  It becomes apparent that the venue has figured all of this out long ago, and is not in business to make our lives any easier or less expensive.

5.     Shoes.  Exactly when the hell did my feet spread out, making it necessary to search high and low for footwear selections in the WIDE range?  I flirt momentarily with my original plan to don a tent-like caftan and shower shoes and play the role of the mentally-challenged mother of the bride, briefly on hiatus from the asylum.  Guests will begin sentences with things like, “Poor Christina…..”  and speak in hushed, careful tones around me. 

I think I need a vacation…….

1 comment:

  1. I think you should go to Paris! What the hell! Vacation away hot mama! We love you just the way you are! :) xo Jen