kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dum, Dum, Dee Dum... It seems that there is very little difference between feeling the absolutely low of lowest and deliriously happy. Don�t buy the hype�there are only a few degrees of separation, and unless you�re a psychotherapist, you probably won�t be able to tell the difference. No one is really that happy, and if they seem to be, they�re probably imbibing mass amounts of drugs. And I�m not talking Tylenol gel caps folks. So where, oh where has Kiwi been? On Christmas Eve day, C. took me to our favorite wine bar, got down on one knee and held up a big ol� rock. I said yes. Much celebration and dancing ensued. The first day after you�re engaged you feel like a goddess. You feel like you are the only girl in all of New York, no, all of the world, that has ever gotten an engagement ring. You feel like everyone is staring at you and that they just know that you have someone that loves you, wants to spend the rest of their lives with you. Your arm gets pulled out of its socket from so much bling showing. But then you start planning the wedding. You start looking for dresses and designing the invites and poring over Martha Stewart magazines. You are just another bride threatening to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if you can�t find Tiffany blue ribbon for the wedding favors. I am not one of those girls who has been planning her wedding since she emerged from the womb. I am happy to be getting married, excited about being a bride and then a wife and eventually (Crikey!), a mother. But as much as I had very little inkling what I want for my wedding, I�m very certain what I don�t want (i.e. resembling a cupcake walking down the aisle in a big pouf of a dress). And it is little known phenomenon that once you get engaged, everyone has an opinion about where the wedding should be, what food you should serve, what drinks you should serve, the music and of course, your gown. If I had been planning this event for years, I may have been a little more prepared, but instead I change my mind every ten seconds and I only make a decision when it�s too late to go back. Then I obsess over how wrong it is and how any one of my other ideas for the cake/flowers/bridesmaid dresses would have been better. I swear to God, I have ulcers the size of grapefruits. And, to top it all off, we�re getting married in Italy. Don�t get me wrong, this is lovely. Absolutely the one thing I was sure I wanted to do ever since C. and I first visited Positano years ago. But have you ever tried to deal with an Italian wedding coordinator? I�m a New Yorker! I want her to worry and obsess about everything as much as I do. I want her to really, really care what color my napkins are! She doesn�t. In fact, in Italy, it can always be dealt with �later�. And as the months trip by �later� is faster and faster becoming �now or never�, which apparently there is no Italian translation for. Also, �I�m going to completely freak out!�, holds no merit in Italian either. At some point, I must simply hold up my hands and accept the fact that despite all the details, I will be getting married on Friday September 10th, no matter what. My bridesmaids may be wearing sweat pants, and I may be carrying a carnation bouquet, we may be eating bread and water, but no matter what�I will be getting married on this day. So there you go. I am officially a Bridezilla. Tune in soon for such fun adventures as: 1. Kiwi picks a dress! 2. Kiwi gets into a knock down drag out with her maid of honor! 3. Kiwi threatens to put a hit out on her wedding coordinator! The fun just won�t stop! La di dah. La di dah.
7:44 p.m. - 2004-05-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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