It turns out I really care about this wedding. But it also turns out that I don't have a DIY bone in my body nor do I care to pay someone enough to make this wedding look spectacular. I am decidedly NOT as creative as some of you out there. I'm just not. And even when I get temporarily inspired, I think about the logistics and time involved in your gorgeous wedding projects (making them, transporting them, setting them up) and I want to curl into a tiny ball and cry from the stress and my apparent inadequacy in comparison to all of you.
But none of that changes things. My wedding will be decoratively basic and somewhat incohesive. We'll have Ikea centerpieces and papel picado bunting, and that's pretty much it. It doesn't have "colors," unless you mean "all of them." I genuinely don't give a fig what my two bridesmaids wear apart from "something purple that's not floor-length" and I only picked purple because they both said it was a color they like and not because I give a d*mn. My shoes are probably going to be boring because I have back problems and flats with arch support don't send people into Louboutin-shoegasms. I'm not having favors or fans or bunting or cute signs or anything else so many people get excited about. My chuppah is probably going to be a meaningful but unattractive concoction.
Oh. Effing. Well.
I'm having great food.
I'm having fabulous music.
And I'm getting married to the most amazing man in the entire world.
I'm trying to hold onto that, because all your beautiful weddings have been getting me down lately. Because even if you claim it was your amazing photographers who made everything look spectacular because you just effed it all, I know better. I see those little details sneaking into the photos. I can tell that you have more style than I do. Stop poo-pooing right now, because it's true. You guys see how to coordinate things artfully, whereas I'm comfortable enough with a semi-easy, semi-cheap mishmash.
In other words, I'm lazy and practical, neither of which get extolled here in weddingland. Here in weddingland, I'm supposed to give a d*mn about inane crap like what my bridesmaids wear. But here in weddingland, even if you say you don't give a d*mn and go for mismatched dresses, it's not because you don't care... it's because you're cool enough to have scoured for coordinated mismatchedness.
But it really turns out that I really truly don't care. And if that makes me some sort of unstylish funsucking beast of a bride, so be it. I'm a heck of a lot more worried about transporting and setting up all our wedding cr*p (it turns out you can acquire a ton of cr*p for DIY setup, even if you didn't DIY-make it yourselves) than I am with finding pretty details. Details are fun. Logistics are not. But details make logistics even less fun, so I'm saying eff it to a whole lot of them.
I'm a lot more comfortable stressing about finding boxes with cardboard dividers for our 45 bud vases (yes, 45 bud vases) than I am giving a fig about making Martha Stewart Poms. I mean really, poms??!! I spent a good week considering making them until I thought about the stress of making them night after night, transporting them into Malibu, hanging them from the rafters, and getting them down from the rafters and wanted to cry. In fact, I actually got so wrapped up in thinking about how to color coordinate the poms with our centerpieces that I forgot WE ALREADY HAVE 10 LONG STRANDS PAPEL PICADO FOR THE RAFTERS.
And that was the moment that I knew I'd lost it. Somehow, despite all my attempts to stay strong and fight the wedding pressures from traditional and indie weddings alike, I'd entirely gone off my sanity rails and into screaming crazy stressed out bride territory. And that was the true eff it moment. Because I've been trying to eff it the entire time, but all of the pretty pretty possibilities from women who claim to not be crafty or stylish (I call bullsh*t) snuck up on me. If they could do it, I could do it too, right? What's wrong with me that I can't do it if they all do it so well? Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with me anymore. I've decided you all have a higher tolerance for pain than I do, and I'm okay with that. I'd rather grab a glass of wine while I deal with immediate necessities like shopping lists and family politics instead of making poms.
Trust me, I still want poms. And crafty placesettings. And a fun photobooth backdrop. And possibly a color theme. And I blame all of you and your pretty weddings. But I'm thanking my last shred of sanity for saying NO EFFING WAY and grabbing a glass of wine instead as I deal with real-world cr*p like address labels. From one unstylish funsucking bride to all the others out there: I'm dedicating my next glass of wine to you. I know you're out there. You just remain pretty quiet, but I'm letting you know that it's okay to celebrate the eff-it-ness. It's okay to be practical and "lazy." It's okay to worry about call lists instead of crafts. In fact, it makes a whole lot of sense in the middle of a wedding maelstrom that doesn't. So cheers. Cheers to the eff-it sisterhood. Come on over any time you need a break from the pretties, because I'll be here with my papel picado and rants for the next three months.
April 3, you cannot come soon enough.