Since I was in fifth grade, I knew I would walk down the aisle to Canon in D. Standing behind the closed doors, I could hear it’s familiar notes, and I realized that my childhood dream was about to come true. I was about to walk down the aisle and marry the love of my life.
My friends, E and J, fixed my train. Our friends/their now-fiancés, M and M, opened the doors, and it was time.
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Another thing checked off the list: my first dress fitting! (And a fair warning: since I’m not sharing my dress until after the wedding, there are no dress photos. I’m sorry!)
I have to be honest with the hive, so here goes: I wasn’t that excited about my first dress fitting. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t experiencing dress regret or getting cold feet—nothing like that—instead, I was worried about how I would look in the dress. Particularly, my arms and upper body. I think that most women have insecurities about their bodies and mine are numerous. I don’t like my stomach, I’m not a fan of my outer thighs (if I gain an ounce, that’s the first place it goes), and quite frankly: I hate my arms. They’re by no means “fat” (though I am guilty of using that term when I talk to friends), but they definitely aren’t in shape like they used to be. Too many years of skipping workouts and eating fast food have added up, and I was super nervous that at my fitting, I would be so preoccupied with my body image that I wouldn’t care at all about the dress.
Thankfully, once I was in the dress, my attitude changed quite a bit. Things like having the a fitting appointment make me realize just how quickly time is flying by. Before we know it, April will be here and I’ll be counting mere weeks rather than months.
A post-appointment reality check from Best Friend J also helped. When I called her complaining about my arms, she told me to be realistic because nobody is going to look at me and notice that my arms look bad. They’ll be too busy taking in everything else (including my wonderful dress!) to care what my arms look like.
Personal photo / Best Friend J, for future reference
A little more about the logistics of my actual fitting, haha. I managed to get into my dress by myself (which won’t be happening on the wedding day, of course) and put on my shoes. When I walked out, Momma Otter had a few tears again, but recovered much more quickly this time than when we actually purchased the dress. *Awww Momma Otter* After that, we had a bit of waiting time so I practiced sitting down in my dress, a logistic I didn’t really consider when purchasing my dress.
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So instead of just coming up with really cool projects, I decided to actually work on one. (Oh, is that how this whole DIY thing works?) Namely, the crossword puzzle. It took me a lot longer than I expected to come up with the words & clues! Here’s a sneak peek…
Personal photo—I started blurring our names, but it just wasn’t the same! So I went back and edited the .doc file to get a new shot. Obviously the ones given to our guests have our real names.
You’ll have to wait on the rest! When I was working on the crossword puzzle though, I got a grand idea. Have you seen the “I Spy” cards all over Pinterest/wedding blogs? They look like this:
redheadthespian shares a set of her stunning bridal portraits!
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I already told you a little about how we met in my introductory post. Short story, we started working together early in the semester. From there on out, we worked together every Friday, and every Friday I would try to get him to pay attention to me. In retrospect, it was completely ridiculous for me to spend so much time on my outfit each week, because he never noticed me and doesn’t remember any of that now. Oh well, it’s the happy ending that counts, right?
Throughout the semester we did talk some. Mr. Lemur later confessed to me he would bring more than enough workers over from concessions to help clean up so he would be free to stand there and chat for a few minutes. We even casually sat together for the second semester company opening meeting. Actually, I spent the entire time before the meeting scheming on how to sit next to him while he was doing the exact same thing, but neither of us knew this. I was convinced he had walked in with another girl, while he says he was there by himself. Either way, I was pleased with myself for my “success,” yet he still hadn’t gotten my number or asked me out!
Well, finally through Mr. Lemur’s roommate (who I sat next to in class), Mr. Lemur got up the courage to get my number and text me for the first time. That text was at about 8:30 on a Monday night and we were still texting each other at 2:00 the next morning. Pretty sure by midnight I told him my greatest fears and by 1:00am I was asking him about future plans. Yeah. I’m not subtle. But it worked, and after that we were officially “talking,” although I was still trying to get him to ask me out without actually throwing myself at him.
A few weeks later there was a required concert—the Warsaw National Philharmonic Orchestra—on campus. Mr. Lemur waited for me after class, and as we walked out of the building, we had the following conversation:
When people ask what my favorite part of the wedding was, the first thing that always comes out of my mouth is the after party.
All photos personal.