Weddingbee Blog

Alternative post title: No one ever told me that you go crazy in the last two weeks of wedding planning.

Image via Rotten Tomatoes

Everything was chugging along wedding-wise, and then, somewhere between finishing my last string of bunting and finally getting our official head count, I went a little nutso.

It all started innocently enough when I decided to finally do something about my tan lines. But pretty soon, it was all I could think about, and I started worrying that I wouldn’t be able to get rid of them and that I’d end up with glaring tan lines on my wedding day. I’m still somewhere in this mess, stuck between exfoliating the living daylights out of my skin and getting a little sunlight every day to try to minimize the look of my little untanned spots. Unfortunately, tanning lotions have not been my friend–in fact, they only furthered my craziness—and I’ve gone back to doing things the old-fashioned way. Thankfully, it seems to be working. Finally.

Then there was the whole bolero incident. I know I’m not the only bride who’s thought about getting a coverup for her strapless dress (in case you missed it, Miss Funnel Cake talked about her obsession with boleros here, here, here, and here. I seriously went kind of batsh*t crazy with this one. I obsessed for weeks. I even started questioning my dress choice. Why, oh why, did I get a strapless dress? I never wear strapless! Why did I think I’d feel comfortable in a strapless dress on my wedding day? Why didn’t I ask my seamstress to add straps to my dress? Why didn’t I order a bolero? Why, why, why?

After driving myself nuts, I finally went to Mr. Parasol with my worries, and he solved them in about five minutes. I sent him a few lace boleros I liked, he told me which one he liked best and why he thought it was the best option for me, and I ordered it. It’s here now, and it’s lovely, but I’m pretty sure I won’t wear it on our wedding day. It kind of changes my overall bridal look, and my dress is just so gorgeous without me adding anything. Maybe I needed to get the bolero to finally decide that I don’t actually need or want it. I don’t know. (I told you I’m crazy!) At least the bolero reminded me that I actually really love my dress, and I like that I’m no longer obsessing about getting one.

I also started questioning the decision to wear my hair in a half-up for the wedding. When I wear my hair in a half-up, I actually feel like a little girl, and I don’t want to feel like that on my wedding day. This was after the bolero fiasco, so I was a little bit wiser this time around: instead of needlessly obsessing for hours, I decided to do my own hair trial. I’m so glad I did because I love the low side bun look I created, and I feel so much more beautiful, comfortable, and grown-up with my hair like this:

Personal Photo

Sometimes, though, the crazy is out of your control. I was scheduled to pick up my wedding dress this past Saturday. Due to last minute car troubles, I had to move my appointment to Thursday. The salon assured me that my dress would be ready to take home.

So I showed up on Thursday, and the saleswoman went to get my dress. Another seamstress came out and beckoned me into the fitting room. I took one look at the dress she had with her and my heart sunk. “Um, that’s not my dress,” I blurted out, starting to panic that my dress had somehow been swapped for this one. Thankfully, though, the seamstress quickly discovered that this dress belonged to another bride who was also there for a fitting.

I then proceeded to wait for about twenty minutes while the saleswoman continued to look for my dress, and I majorly started to panic. I could hear her asking people in the back if they had seen Miss Parasol’s wedding dress, and the longer she took, the louder my heart pounded. Had my dress been lost? Stolen? Accidentally sold to another bride? Destroyed in alterations? My mind raced with all the horrible possibilities.

Finally, the saleswoman came out to apologize. The computers were down, so she was looking through every single dress by hand for my mine. I told her my dress was Maeve, and in about another minute, she found it. Relief.

Then more bad news: they hadn’t steamed or pressed my dress yet, so I couldn’t take it home. And of course, steaming a dress takes a lot of time, so it’s not like I could just wait 15 more minutes and then take it home. No, I had to come back the next day. Which isn’t that big of a deal, but it is over an hour drive each way, plus a $4 toll and at least $3 in parking. I finally have my dress, but I feel like the whole ordeal kind of gave me a mild heart attack.

Needless to say, it’s been an intense few weeks, and at times, I feel like I’ve totally lost my mind in a sea of bridal craziness. I’d like to say that I’ve handled myself graciously, but that’d be a big fat lie. I may or may not have seriously snapped at Mr. Parasol the other day when he failed to grasp the fact that it will be a great catastrophe if there’s a hint of a tan line peeking out on my chest. Don’t worry, I quickly apologized and bemoaned the realization that this wedding has made me so crazy. I’ve never obsessed so much about anything before in my life.

More than anything, I think I’m just kind of nervous that I won’t feel comfortable, confident, and beautiful on our wedding day. I’ve been putting so much pressure on myself for the wedding, and I’m starting to crack. I let go of the idea that everything about the wedding will be absolutely perfect a long time ago, but I didn’t realize that I had been clinging to the idea that I could be perfect. Maybe the food will be cold, but at least I will look and feel my absolute best.

But that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. Come wedding day, maybe my hair and makeup won’t make me feel like the most beautiful woman ever. Maybe my arms won’t look perfectly toned from every angle. Maybe I’ll still have those tan lines. And, as I’m learning, that’s OK. I’ll still have a gorgeous dress, fabulous hair and makeup, and a man who thinks I’m beautiful even when I’m lying around the house in sweatpants. And I’ll be married to him. Sweet.

Have any of you ever come down with a case of the bridal crazies? How did you handle the craziness of wedding planning?