I'm the kind of girl who wipes her dirty hands on her trousers. The kind of girl who would rather sport chipped, shitty nail polish for a week than actually bother spending two minutes taking it off. And honestly, like, really honestly? I have — on more than one occasion — blown my nose on a dirty sock that was closer to my bed than the tissues.
I am also a girl who has devoured almost every single post on Offbeat Bride since I stumbled across the site way back in 2007. So now, years later here I am; 24 years old and all ready to marry a beautiful man next year.
“Of course!” I cried when we got engaged, “OF COURSE every single part of our wedding will represent every single part of our combined personalities and totally reflect who we are as people and be lovingly orchestrated by mine own fair hands! Duh!” Because that's the thing to do when you're a young, independent, quirky, modern Offbeat Bride marrying your equally modern, quirky Offbeat Groom.
So we started planning the sort of event that one might associate with young, offbeat couples such as ourselves. Big Informal Festival Garden Party would have been the tagline had it been featured here. But with those celebrations come responsibilities. And organizing. And the dreaded Making Sure Everything Runs Smoothly On The Day. I was getting sweaty palms and losing sleep just thinking about it.
I suddenly realized something…
The actual type of celebration we have doesn't really need to say anything about us as people. It's all in the details. The childhood pictures we plan to display (teenage sweethearts FTW!), the playlists, the Pokémon hunt, the arm wrestling contest, and the bouncy castle. All of these things are the real things people will remember about the wedding of my partner and me: two outrageous big kids. It doesn't matter if we strategically place those items in a back garden, a village hall, or some grand stately home; what matters is us having enough patience and energy to plan these personalized elements that mean so much.
I have decided that on the day of my wedding, I don't want to feel like the host at what would just be a large version of one of my house parties. The same parties where I stress over stupid shit, can't sleep the night before, never put effort in to the important stuff and always rush around without taking the time to enjoy myself. No. I want to be the gosh darn guest of honour. I want to walk in, looking fly as hell, and be handed a drink.
Solution? Package wedding. Mmmm. Even just writing it makes me feel like I've slipped into a nice hot bath. Ahhh.
Frankly, I've always secretly dreamed of unleashing my long-suppressed inner fancy bitch for the “big day,” princess style, but I'm just so damn LAZY. If the planning were all left up to me, it would be a half-baked disaster. In reality, I don't give a flying frig about making/renting/buying chair covers! But I'll be damned if I have naked chairs at my wedding. You see the contradiction here?
That is all to say, no, my wedding — as an event — will not represent me as a person. Because that person rarely brushes her hair, would rather sleep for five more minutes than shower, and can't cut paper in a straight line. That person half-asses things so often, it's a genuine surprise she actually has a whole ass.
My wedding will be suspended reality where I can be the fabulous, glamorous, high-maintenance diva that I'm utterly convinced I would be if I wasn't so busy being a disgusting, cave-dwelling troll. And I can't fucking wait.