Normal people give themselves an entire year to get skinny for their wedding — naturally then, I only gave myself fifteen days.
In truth, I didn’t even really bother trying. I did the Wild Rose cleanse for eight out of the prescribed 12 days and from the time Steve asked me to marry him last month in the desert, I estimate I have probably eaten 40 tacos, three large pizzas, 27 California rolls and like, two entire pigs. That is absolutely an exaggeration, but not enough of one for it to be a blatant lie.
As someone who frequently tweets up a storm in regards to the hilarious things I think up in my head, as someone who likes to show off every meal out on Instagram, as someone who takes selfies when she has a good face day and as someone who writes a weekly column based entirely around her own opinions I think it’s safe to say that having things be about me is totally my jam. I don’t want to suggest I like to be the center of attention, but I’m totally comfortable there and it would be a valid observation if you were to make it.
I like the spotlight, but — and there is a big but here, with or without the tacos — I like the spotlight when I look good in it. Sure, one time I tweeted about farting in a convertible, but I promise you it was the glam-est of wind-breaking experiences this world has ever known. Fashionable, even.
So, when Steve and I decided we wanted to spend our energy being married as opposed to being engaged, we both surprised a lot of people by choosing to do it quietly, with little to no spotlight allowed, no professional contouring, no designer, no florist, no three-tiered cupcake platters and no photographer.
When I was younger, I wanted the large wedding, the expensive dress, the long walk down the aisle and the adoring eyes of “family and friends,” half of whom I had no recollection of ever meeting before. I wanted it to be my day and I wanted it to be perfect.
Over time and through experience, however, the meaning of a wedding changed drastically for me. I wanted it to be lovely and comfortable, quiet and simple, quick and painless. I wanted to celebrate being married — you know, the hard part — with the people who will help us hold it together when that hard stuff starts popping up.
So Steve and I spent a month in engagement secrecy and planned an elopement with our immediate families down to our favorite cabin in the woods.
We woke up the morning of our wedding and went out to the forest to get firewood.
There was no special treatment, no people trying to give us advice and no cold feet. I didn’t manage to lose ten pounds in 15 days, but that didn’t matter.
Instead, I got to spill barbeque sauce on my dress and wipe my nose on my dad’s flannel shirt. I got to fist pump a la Judd Nelson before the ceremony was over. I got to change into blue jeans, fill both my cheeks with M&M’s and we got to cut our first dance short because we didn’t remember music won’t stream in the middle of nowhere. What mattered was that we got to enjoy it.
And despite foregoing the spotlight for this one, it was entirely our day and it was — in all its imperfection — absolutely perfect.
Besides, I don’t think getting yourself in tip-top shape for your wedding is necessary anyway. You want to give yourself room to improve, amiright?
— Andria is a 20-something blogger from Kamloops