Marital Bliss

It has been said that married folk tend to live longer, happier lives. I don't believe anything anyone tells me so I had to see for myself. On March seventeenth, yes St. Patrick's Day, of 2012 I did the "I do" thing. And not to gloat, but probably to the most amazing man in the world. The wedding itself was a nightmare. From inception to delivery-just BAD. I spent way too much money (that I didn't even have), stressed way too often and suffered a minor anxiety attack the day of said event. I have some pretty amazing friends though; I'm still in the dark as to why. But they are giving, thoughtful and well.... tolerant of me. I'd like to say that thanks to them things went off without a hitch, but that is simply not the case. To begin I underestimated the amount of time it requires to apply false eyelashes when one has no previous experience. FYI, approximately an hour... so my mother felt compelled to remind me ever so subtly that people were waiting on me- approximately every 8.2 minutes give or take a few seconds. Then there was the situation that was my hair. Oh dear Lord...my hair. Thank goodness one of my aforementioned friends had the courage to tell the fuming bride(me) to just put it up....so I did. Whew. So on to photos. OMG.... have I ever mentioned that I abhor having my picture taken? Or that I hate dresses? Or that I detest make-up? So let's combine all three and have some fun, shall we? Onto the reception. Wait, where's my phone? The only piece of technology I require to survive....missing. What?? Some old Elk member walked of with my phone? Here come the guests. Smile, greet, be nice. One out of three ain't bad, right? Also, I'm not a big fan of people looking at me in general but apparently that's what is expected of the bride on the day of her wedding. And one more thing, they expect the bride-me- to put down the beer so people can take more pictures. I'm sorry, you want me to do what? Sever the only tie between me and my sanity? I don't think so. A little photo shop never hurt anybody. So by the way we hired a phenomenal DJ, and of course no one took to the dance floor except for my friends' wonderful and brilliant autistic son, who also, as it turns out, yearns to be a collector of garters.... Anyway, apparently guests will only dance after the bride and groom have... more looking at me? Yea, that's not happening. Well needless to say, I survive the night, as do my guests. Some even had a good time. Well the kids had fun. My favorite part was when my spastic-on-a-normal-day eight year old runs up and says, "I ate four cupcakes. Is that okay??" Sure...
     
Upon arrival at the homestead I disrobe, wash my face and eat a cupcake. Did I mention I found my phone? We open some of our cards. Turns out our friends are generous. Then we hit the sack. No marital consummation as the kids were in the next room, still awake thanks to sugar and red dye no. 8. You shall be spared the details. So lying there wide awake, I remember ordering four bottles of celebratory bubbly yet there was no toast...oops.