![]() |
| I wore this expression all day. (Photo by Annabelle Dando Photography) |
I thought I would care deeply about the state of my nails, and maybe the wedding would be my motivation to finally stop picking at them and for once in my life have the nicely-manicured hands of a grown-up, and not a nervous fifteen-year-old. This did not happen. The stress made my cuticle-picking habit worse than ever, and as a consequence I said my vows with several bandaids on my fingers, with stubby fingernails, which I'd inexpertly painted myself, sitting on the kitchen floor the day before the wedding. And I didn't care at all.
I thought I would care about whitening my teeth, and I did get as far as clipping Crest White-strips coupons from the newspaper...but I never actually used them. When it came down to it, I could not summon even a single ounce of concern for the appearance of my teeth. I mean, they're just teeth, right?
We got married at the beginning of May, and I haven't been to the gym since November at best. I thought I would care...but I didn't. And I still rocked the dress.
I thought I would care about fancy table numbers (I was going to embroider them, oh yes I was), I thought I would care about the cake, I thought I would care about pretty placecards, and why wouldn't I? I am a detail person--often I can't see the forest for the leaves--and I like to make nice things.
But I didn't.
And it was still the best party of my life. I threw dignity to the wind and danced with all my friends and my shiny new husband, and I drank a lot of champagne, and I hugged a lot of people, and I cried during the toasts, and I smiled until my face hurt, and oh, you guys, it was the best. Being married is the best.
Singing along to: Gregory Alan Isakov, "John Brown's Body"

0 comments:
Post a Comment