Weddingbee Blog

We share so much about our wedding planning lives with you, but I think it’s time for some token randomness, don’t you?

I have the taste-buds of a fussy toddler. Apparently I’ve always been this way, and I appear to have never grown out of it—I’m still fussy to this day. I used to swallow mouthfuls of peas whole like pills, because I didn’t like the pasty texture. I’m the same with beans or lentils. The paste taste… blargh. I hate fruit with seeds, even if the actual taste inside is nice and sweet (case in point: kiwis and strawberries). My arch nemesis is one that everyone else is in love with, though: I have a complete and utter hatred of tomatoes. The mere thought of eating one makes me gag. Something about the seedy, soggy part on the inside gives me the heebie-jeebies. (Though funnily enough, I can eat strawberry jam, tomato sauce and pasta creations with absolutely no issues.)

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I get my lefts and rights confused.

I’m twenty six years old, I teach primary-aged children for a living, and I still mess up my directions. I actually ran into a concrete road island when I was learning to drive, because I turned left when my instructor told me to turn right. And I still do that, even now. (Although luckily, I haven’t collided with anything since then.)

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I’m compulsively early. To everything. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it—I have issues with being late. I would rather arrive super early and read a book in my car, as opposed to showing up at the last minute and being flustered. I also get really, really irritated when other people make me late—my future husband fits in to this category occasionally! On the bright side, at least I won’t be one of those brides who holds the wedding up making her grand entrance—I have a feeling that I’ll probably be dragging everyone to the church to make sure we’re right on time!

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I talked to Taylor Hanson. It was 1997. I was thirteen. I was blasting MmmBop on repeat at every chance I got. Sydney was in the middle of Hanson-fever. Wow, did I have a thing for these guys. I knew every song lyric. I had no space on my walls free; they were completed covered with posters, 90% of them of the singing brothers from Tulsa. I used to watch their DVD obsessively. And then, one day, they announced an Australian visit—OH EM GEE. I wasn’t able to get to any of the promo shows, seeing that I didn’t live near a big city, but I did enter any and all competitions to try and get my hands on anything Hanson-related. And what do you know…I won one. I won a phone call with the band, and spent five glorious minutes stuttering awkwardly about how great they were and asking them random questions. My mum taped it for me, and I still have that cassette floating around somewhere at home. It’s my one claim to fame, and I’m sticking with it!

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I once had a permed fringe. This could potentially be the most disturbing thing I put out there on the internet. To set the scene for you, I’ve always had long, perfectly dead-straight fine hair. Always have, always will. But apparently when I was younger (we’re talking nine or ten here) I went through a phase. A phase that involved me desperately wanting to perm my fringe. Why just my fringe? I have no idea. Apparently I wanted the boofy fringe but the straight hair. To me, the bigger question of all is WHY ON EARTH did my mother agree to it? I’ve still yet to figure that out. Personally, I think it’s because she wanted to have a stash of photos to torment me with in the future, just like this one:

Oh, the shame. So glad that phase only lasted a year.

So now that I’ve shared a little more about me, it’s time for you to spill a quirk or two about yourself in the comments. Any other fringe-permers out there?!