Friends Don’t Let Friends Eat Onions on Their Wedding Day

Ted: Wow, thanks for being so cool about this ’cause you know Claudia said…
Stuart: Yeah, yeah, yeah… This morning at the rehearsal, Claudia called our 7-year-old flower girl a whore. So, don’t take it personally, she’s just a little stressed. –How I Met Your Mother

Guest blogger:
Diary of B

A few months ago Date Girl did a little guest posting for me while I was on my honeymoon, so I thought it would be fun to pay back the favor. In honor of her upcoming wedding, I thought I could talk a little bit about my own wedding. I hope you guys enjoy, and thanks to Date Girl for allowing me to hijack her blog!

Wedding planning is like an emotional roller coaster. It is exciting! It is stressful! One minute you are celebrating, and the next minute you are on the floor crying over seating charts and having to glue 50 billion rhinestones on your invitations. OK so I wasn’t the type of bride to have a wedding involving seating charts or rhinestone invitations, but the point still stands.

Wedding planning can turn even the most calm, level-headed lady into a “Bridezilla.” Although I never became a bridezilla, I just didn’t have the meanness in me. But I did turn into a little bit of a Cry-zilla and a whole lot of a Panic-zilla. Here is a list of my top freak-out moments. It may be best that I tell you now that I am a highly neurotic person and a complete worry wart.

Four Months till the Wedding:

My fiancé Adam and I are at our friends’ house to drop off some items that we had burrowed. These friends happen to be a charming gay couple who apparently know much more about wedding planning than I do. They proceed to innocently quiz me on my wedding plans, but it makes me feel like I am facing a firing squad. They ask me about my wedding colors. At that point, I had only picked one color and didn’t plan on having two. But their suggestion that I should have two colors sent me into a blind panic. And even though Adam and I didn’t get home that night until after midnight, he wasn’t allowed to go to bed until after we had decided on our second color. I was convinced my wedding would be terrible and that the world would end if we didn’t find the perfect color to match clover green before the morning.

Three Months till the Wedding:

It is time to register for stuff, a.k.a wedding gifts. I’ve always wanted to register for wedding gifts (those price guns get me all kinds of excited), but when I walk into the store I am overwhelmed by all the choices. I’ve never been good at making choices. Now I am being forced to decide which waffle maker would be best for us. And I feel like if I chose the wrong waffle maker, there could be dire consequences. And what about those cork screws, do we even need a cork screw? If I don’t register for a cork screw will the people looking at our registry think we’re not sophisticated because we obviously don’t drink wine? But if we add the corkscrew will people think we have a drinking problem? And if I just ignore the home appliances and run straight to the clothing section will they think I am selfish because it is not a present for 'us'. Even worse, I actually request some sexy lingerie which is technically for 'us', and they all think I have a sex problem? Or maybe a greedy bride! And Holy Wedding Gifts, Batman! If people buy us all these gifts we will have no room for them in our tiny house. The boxes of stuff will pile up, and we will never be able to move because we won’t be able to get out from under all our stuff. And when we have children, they will get lost in the maze of boxes that has become our life. We won’t be able to give away, toss, or sell any of the stuff because they were gifts and that would be rude! So one day you would be watching me on that show Hoarders. At this point in the thought process, I turned to Adam and said, “Can we leave now? The thought of all this stuff is suffocating me!”

Two Months till the Wedding:

I am flying to my hometown in Alabama because my friends are throwing me a bridal shower. I decide to bring my wedding dress with me, so my mom can just bring it to the wedding, and I wouldn’t have so much to travel with when my wedding rolled around. I board my first flight, hang up my dress in the garment closet, and go to take my seat in coach. After glaring at the lucky ducks in first class, I discover that for some reason my seat actually does not exist. Not that someone is sitting in my seat; it is just non-existent! The flight attendant tells me to talk to the front desk lady, so I de-board the plane and the front desk lady informs me they switched planes due to mechanical problems, and I got bumped. She wants to put me on a different flight, which is fine by me, but my dress is still on the plane! They are not allowing me to re-board the plane as a security measure. Don’t they understand that I’m not a terrorist threat, just a very anxious bride-to-be? I am tearing up and they are trying to contact the flight attendant. There are many tense minutes, and I’m just picturing my dress ending up in some airport’s lost and found. But then like a ray of light sent form heaven above, the flight attendant emerges with my dress. I wanted to ask her where she hid her angel wings.

One Month till the Wedding:

I have just confirmed how many people are coming to the wedding. I have about 90 guests and the venue can only hold about 100. One morning I get a call from my grandmother and she asks if she can give out an open invitation to all of her friends in her Christian sorority. There are about 70 people in her sorority. This means that even if just 11 of her friends decide to attend, we are in trouble. But what am I supposed to do? Tell my grandmother she can’t invite the fellow members of her blue-haired ladies club? Yeah right. So I tell my grandma to invite them all to the wedding, and also let them know to feel free to fill up on second and third helpings of our already paid-per-head dinner! OK so I really didn’t say that, but I thought it.

One Week till the Wedding:

I am getting all my wedding stuff packed and my veils have pulled a disappearing act. I have torn through my house like a Texas tornado, and I still can’t find it. I’m on the verge of a complete supernova meltdown. I call my mom and make her search through her entire house to see if I left it there. She doesn’t find it. I am now officially hyperventilating. Next, I call my poor grandmother and send her on a wild goose chase around her house (hey, that is what happens to grandmothers who invite 100 of their nearest and dearest friends to your wedding). She doesn’t find it, and my supernova meltdown begins. I am a freak-out mess, I can’t afford new veils! My mom keeps telling me to call the bridal store and see if they will give me some replacement veils. I think her idea is ridiculous, it is my fault I lost it, but I call anyway. Only to find I left my veils at the store three months earlier during a fitting. The bag had been sitting on the floor in the alteration room the whole time with my NAME and NUMBER on it. Couldn’t they have given a girl a phone call?

The Day of the Wedding:

It is two o’clock in the afternoon, and I am hanging with my bridesmaids while they get their hair done. I make the comment that I had been so busy running around all day, that I hadn’t eaten anything. My bridesmaids insist that I have to eat something, so they run down to Sonic and buy me a burger. I don’t think twice about my burger having onions on it, until I get to our venue and my mom tells me I smell like onions. Now all I can think about is how I’m going to be the girl smelling of onions on her wedding day. And in the words of Darleen from the movie The Little Rascals, I say burping onions on your wedding day is just, “So Romantical.” What kinds of bridesmaids don’t protect you from onions? I’m chalking this one up to an act of bridesmaid sabotage. By the way, I took a shower, so I was onion free on my wedding day. That made my day much more romantical.

I wanted to finish this post by wishing you a wonderful wedding day. Here’s a toast to your marriage being filled with more days that you want to hug each other, than days you want to kill each other.

One Comment


    Haha Brittany, this was so frantic! I loved that I caught some of your anxiety, even though you started out so calm…ha.

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