Wedding Belle Blues
Something old? Check. (The vintage ribbon on your bouquet.)
New? Check. (It's ... unmentionable! [but rhymes with "lacy wong"])
Borrowed? Check. (Mom's diamond earrings, natch.) Blue? Workin' on it. (He loves your big brown eyes, so is it wrong to be thinking about contacts this late in the game?)
It's all falling into place. The dress is exquisite. You've been running around and so much that the seamstress even had to take it in once. The shoes are stunning. You can actually walk in them without killing yourself or anyone else. You've found a hairdresser who won't make you look like the Bride of Frankenstein and a makeup artist who won't make you look like Frankenstein. The mothers not only like each other but have become the best of friends. You're good to go.
This leaves you free to worry about the really important stuff, like ... the cake. Not the cake itself, of course, because that was the first thing you took care of. Ever since you were little, you knew it would be chocolate, so you took special precautions to seriously date only fellow chocolate freaks, just in case. (Tall, dark, and handsome? Yep, that's your cake. Six towering layers!)
No, what you're staying up nights fretting about now is, Will he be so crude as to smash it in my face? and If so, do I reciprocate? and Is it bad form to file for divorce at the reception? What would Miss Manners do? Your frenzied, 2:00 a.m. internet searches yield nothing. And your maid of honor's response — "Listen, sweetie, I was always a bridesmaid, never a bride, and now, as maid of honor, this is the closest I think I'm ever going to come to being a bride, so if any guy, even a blind date, smashed cake in my face, I'd consider it an honor" — doesn't exactly ease your mind.
No one ever said planning this thing was going to be a piece of cake, but if anything's going to be smashed, you'd prefer it to be Aunt Trudy on champagne and not six layers of chocolate on you.
And if you think you've been driving yourself batty, just think what you've been doing to your bridesmaids and that poor maid of honor. You have the honeymoon and gifts (and the guy). They took care of you, so now it's your turn to treat them to the icing on the cake. A Visa gift card is the perfect way to say, "Now you can buy a dress you'll actually wear again."
New? Check. (It's ... unmentionable! [but rhymes with "lacy wong"])
Borrowed? Check. (Mom's diamond earrings, natch.) Blue? Workin' on it. (He loves your big brown eyes, so is it wrong to be thinking about contacts this late in the game?)
It's all falling into place. The dress is exquisite. You've been running around and so much that the seamstress even had to take it in once. The shoes are stunning. You can actually walk in them without killing yourself or anyone else. You've found a hairdresser who won't make you look like the Bride of Frankenstein and a makeup artist who won't make you look like Frankenstein. The mothers not only like each other but have become the best of friends. You're good to go.
This leaves you free to worry about the really important stuff, like ... the cake. Not the cake itself, of course, because that was the first thing you took care of. Ever since you were little, you knew it would be chocolate, so you took special precautions to seriously date only fellow chocolate freaks, just in case. (Tall, dark, and handsome? Yep, that's your cake. Six towering layers!)
No, what you're staying up nights fretting about now is, Will he be so crude as to smash it in my face? and If so, do I reciprocate? and Is it bad form to file for divorce at the reception? What would Miss Manners do? Your frenzied, 2:00 a.m. internet searches yield nothing. And your maid of honor's response — "Listen, sweetie, I was always a bridesmaid, never a bride, and now, as maid of honor, this is the closest I think I'm ever going to come to being a bride, so if any guy, even a blind date, smashed cake in my face, I'd consider it an honor" — doesn't exactly ease your mind.
No one ever said planning this thing was going to be a piece of cake, but if anything's going to be smashed, you'd prefer it to be Aunt Trudy on champagne and not six layers of chocolate on you.
And if you think you've been driving yourself batty, just think what you've been doing to your bridesmaids and that poor maid of honor. You have the honeymoon and gifts (and the guy). They took care of you, so now it's your turn to treat them to the icing on the cake. A Visa gift card is the perfect way to say, "Now you can buy a dress you'll actually wear again."
