Wedding Blog

[Note: this is from a few weeks ago. I did not lose my sh!t twice in two days, though I seem to be careening crazily in that direction.]

I had one of those moments today, moments when you step back from yourself in stunned surprise at the path of your thoughts. I was standing in front of a smorgasbord of makeup options, trying to decide if I needed a ten-palette eyeshadow or if three was enough, thinking that maybe I should just give in and order that “bridal palette” I saw advertised in a magazine.

What is it about a wedding that suckers you into doing (and thinking!) things that are totally out of character? Don’t get me wrong, I once owned 90% of the eyeshadow colors sold by Aveda. I like pretty fancy shimmery pretties just as much as the next girl. But since those days, I’ve found that I’m just as happy with drugstore products when I bother to wear them. Case in point: I stopped at Walgreens on the way to our engagement photo shoot and grabbed the first dark brown eyeshadow palette that was on sale, and I was quite happy with it.

For me, the sucker factor is that it’s a special day.

Evidently, spending more money confirms this specialness, if only because nobody wants to worry that they “cheaped out” on the one day they’ll be followed around by a photographer. The entire wedding industry feeds on our fear of regret.

I’m willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a one-day makeup application, but find myself wondering if we really need a tent (um, yes, chairs in the street without a tent are just… sad). Thing is, my budget consciousness has never really been about being unwilling to spend money; rather, I want us to spend our money in thoughtful ways. My savings account is healthy, my parents are willing to contribute, and my future hubby’s credit is nearly perfect. We pay out of pocket for home renovations on two houses, the care and feeding of seven animals, and my weakness for restaurants. We could choose to spend close to the national average on our wedding, but while the temptation to do so is great, our determination to keep our perspective on our wedding — as a celebration, not an event — is greater.

As my guy sometimes has to remind me, our fun and enjoyment isn’t dependent on the state of our kitchen remodel (or lack thereof) or whether we spend more on appetizers. We want our people to remember their joy and laughter and to be touched by our love and happiness. Perfect centerpieces don’t necessarily contribute to that goal, though they do give me something to worry about other than how to handle having everyone’s eyes on us.

My biggest fear, as it turns out, is that I’ll not quite be ready to bask in the glow of the love of our people. Have you looked at Mrs. Lovebug’s ceremony pictures lately? Her smile lights up the planet. Or how ’bout Mrs. Sea Breeze? Now that woman is H.A.P.P.Y. and it’s obvious. What if instead of feeling happy, I fidget nervously under the weight of people’s eyes? What if I take comfort in stress and panic rather than remembering to breathe and enjoy?

I found the pictures from my first wedding this morning, and everyone looked so happy. It’s been nine years and I’ve lost all three of my grandparents since then, so I was struck by how young they looked. I remembered them dancing, laughing, enjoying themselves. I’d completely forgotten that all the men wore tuxedos, or that I hated my makeup, or that I wore a sparkly veil and tiara (shut it, it was practically still the ’90s, ok?).

So I’m embarking on Operation Perspective, because it seems that I’ve lost mine. I’m going to wear my own makeup but find someone to do my hair, stop worrying about the invitations, and let my guy decide on the men’s attire. As much as I’d like to prove that self-catering can be done, I’m going to bring in a good friend who’s also a caterer. Thoughtful touches like a cutesy drink menu and silly stories about us don’t cost much. And I’m going to focus on two projects that I’m simultaneously dreading and excited about: a family tree and our ceremony.

First, though, I’m taking a deep breath, sending my guy a sweet text message, and hugging a dog. Have you lost (and found) your perspective?