Thursday, July 28, 2005

Bridezilla PMS Strikes!

A picture of Venice, Italy, where we were thinking of honeymooning.

My poor husband. He's been watching me go through wedding planning and yesterday I was swearing up a cobalt streak over the Great Lakes (lots of really really bad words there, people) about how a travel agent on the West Coast had promised me three times to get back to me with a package rate on hotels and airfare for Central Europe and for Italy. We'd been looking into a 10 day trip either to Venice/Budapest/Prague or to Rome/Florence (Tuscany)/Venice. I waited, and as usual, heard nothing. Of course, this set me off at this point in the game and I was utterly enraged and began to stomp back and forth in the house, shrieking "That f$%#!ing bitch!!!" That's when it hit me: I've become Bridezilla! Only 78 days to go and I haven't even got my honeymoon, registry, transport (limousine), wedding bands, or invitations started yet. Help!

My friends have been great about it. They've been amused by the Bridezilla PMS. Now, I totally relate to the ad they are showing in Times Square in NYC on the big screen where they advertise the show by showing the bride in full get-up taking something like an axe and plunging it with a vicious snarl through a wedding cake. No kidding. By now, I am so tired of negotiating with people and checking every single line of each contract that I needed a break.

So this past weekend, a wonderful friend of ours visited from D.C. She is an editor and a college friend of my husband's and I adore her! We went to an Argentinean BYOB steak house on Thursday night and were up late drinking -- I've been working on mastering the art of making mojitos and am finally getting somewhere. (Kelly thought they were excellent.) At the restaurant, at one point I returned from the restroom. The table in front of me had a happy family with their kids, too, enjoying their dinner, but at the table behind us was a 50-something man with balding red hair wearing a yellow polo shirt dining with a very young girl who could easily be his daughter. He was speaking in a very superciliously superior way to her: "I brought you here tonight to tell you about her (another woman, obviously) because if you cannot accept that I want to be with other women too you will be constantly hurt."

Meanwhile, he was busy checking out Kelly, who was sitting across from me and facing him! Kelly couldn't hear him, but she could see him checking her out while on his "date", and I couldn't see him, but I could hear him dumping nasty and absolutely narcissistic words on this beautiful young girl. At which point, I very nearly turned around to grab her arm and say, "What are you? Stop playing victim! Just leave! You deserve so much better, girl! Get the f*!& away from this bastard!" But I didn't. I was supposed to be enjoying dinner with my friends, but it was absolutely horrifying. This man had her completely under his control. Kelly later told us that the girl was actually serving this man his dinner! Like a geisha. In this day and age in a major city.

There has to be something we can do to stop this. Why was she grateful to be abused? What type of upbringing allows people to think this way and to lack the boundaries to identify such abuse?

But the rest of the weekend was wonderful. We all attended a fantastic BBQ at our friend M's house and everything was perfect. Her friends, the food, the crowd, a group of people from different generations and different backgrounds who all ended up getting along marvelously along with amazing conversations. She actually had to throw us out at the end of the night because no one wanted to leave.

I managed to fall down the back wooden stairwell and bruise my tailbone (coccyx) so we called my brother-in-law, who is a GP, and he prescribed a lot of aspirin and rolling up a towel like a doughnut to sit down and lie upon. I was in deathly pain for a few days but now it's just wrenching pain. He was very sympathetic and said, "There's not much you can do, and it'll hurt a lot because a lot of muscles interconnect there, so every time you move it will hurt, but with time, it'll get better. Just take aspirin or Motrin, which is an anti-inflammatory, and use a doughnut." So here I am, sitting oh so delicately on my doughnut as I write this.

Well, that was a rather all over the place update. Things have been running awry with the wedding planning. It's when you get to the point that all of the little details are running amok and not under control that things get difficult. I'm going to hunt down that damn travel agent and call her. There's not much time left and I need to know if we're even going to be able to afford our honeymoon! You would think, given that she specializes in honeymoons, that she would be more sensitive. Maybe I should just contact the company and change to another agent. A vote on that one?


At 9:21 AM, Blogger Allie said...

Hate to scare you, but it gets way worse the closer you get to the wedding. Just try to relax and BREATHE!!


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