The Wedding Chronicles: New Year, New Panic

When faced with decisions…

I hate to admit this comma but … I have spent A LOT of time throwing hard shade at any gal who experienced a full nuclear meltdown during the planning of a wedding. What a bunch of losers. Lynette, have you truly lost the will to live because the linens are not available in peau de soie? Barb, are you going to hurl yourself off the bridge because you cannot decide between Baby’s Breath and Bells of Ireland? This simply cannot be that difficult.

Or so I thought. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. It is five days into the new year and I am in full panic mode. The blessed event is in T minus five months and counting. I may be the only woman in history who quite sincerely thought to herself, “Planning a wedding is no big deal.” Karma, people, karma.

The number of decisions alone has given me heart palpitations. Decision making is not in my wheel house. Anyone remember me attempting to select chairs for my home in NYC? That was three years ago. Still no chairs. Decisions, file that under Stuff Me Not Good At.

However, the “make zero decisions and sit on derriere” approach is not a current option. Diane and Sarah, my friend and wedding planner, demand action. So, here’s my new jam … I just call it. Translation: I make snap decisions with dictatorial authority backed by not one iota of information, thought, or research.

I AM THE DECIDER

I was shown tents, chandeliers, china, stemware … and I blindly issued my demands. Diane asked if I would like to consider alternatives. I would not. I have DECIDED.

What exactly have I decided upon? No clue. None. It is possible that I may have ordered a couple of gardens sheds, some lava lamps, and 1000 pairs of chopsticks. I DON’T EVEN KNOW. I do know that we are not planning to serve Asian cuisine. So if I OK’d chopsticks, I hope ya’ll enjoy eating cave man style.

But damnit, I am deciding. You show me a glass, I pick one. You show me a flower, I pick one. You show me a dress, I hate them all.

The dress.

That’s a different story.