I can’t sleep; I’m in a weird mood of wondering what getting married is like. I’m wondering even moreso (since there’s not much I can do about the former) what it’s like to be at your own wedding.
I never dreamed of being a princess bride. When girl friends would talk about their dream weddings I’d either improvise something, say I want to get married in jeans and a t-shirt, or go on and on about how I think the concept of bridesmaids (mainly the dresses) is cruel.
Here I am, getting married, and actually being a part of my own wedding. Crazy. I see these pictures of me in something resembling a wedding dress (c’mon, you know I have to be different) and I can’t really think beyond how much I’m going to douse that thing in sweat come August 9th. Romantic, yes?
I guess I just want to have fun. My bestest friends are coming from 6,000 miles to celebrate with me; my family will be all together in Israel for the first time; I’ll be meeting my long distance in laws from across the world; all I want is to have a fun time for those two weeks when most of the most important people in my life will be surrounding me where I chose, and choose, to live (could be the last time, too).
I don’t think it takes much for me to have fun anyway. Hell, I entertain myself half the time. Even though I’m a bit skeptical of certain things and sad about how the past couple of months have gone, I have to say (with the risk of making myself vomit) that with the people I mentioned above flying to Israel, and the couple of people I truly care about in Israel sticking around, I should be a pretty happy party animal this summer.
And if I’m going to have enormous pit stains leaking through white lycra, might as well have fun with it, right?