A Wedding for Anyone Else...

Well, a lot has changed since the last post. And I'm glad about that because, as you can see, it wasn't going so well for me in August. However, Gran has (probably after a run-in with The Demon Aunt) accepted that I can omit whomever I like from my guest-list, we have a little more money to play with now and loads of stuff has been booked.

Am I a Bridezilla? Hell no. My plan, such as it is, is to have it all organised before Christmas meaning that in the run up I can concentrate on work, planning a wonderful Honeymoon and losing weight.

You see, I don't think my wedding is going to be the most wonderful day of my life. It might be, and fab if it is; you won't hear me complaining if nothing ever compares to that day again. But it might just be a nice party with lots of food, dancing and booze. Because I have realised that a wedding isn't for the couple; a wedding is for the people you invite.

And with that in mind, I'll continue with the arrangements safe in the knowledge that the best bit will be when I get to the airport and rock off on my honeymoon. He and I can please each other and not worry about anyone else.

Selfish? Perhaps. But I'm okay with that.

Disowned

Hello faithful reader. I am shunned. In exile. Banished (to be prounounced banishED to really drive the point home). My family have disowned me. Kind of.

"Why?" you might well ask. Well, you'd think I did something truly terrible such as kill someone's pet, admit to secretly liking Michale Buble or not suitably disguising my sizeable girth (capital offence as far as my grandmother is concerned - she doesn't like having a fat grandaughter). No, my crime was to say I didn't want to invite one of my aunts to my wedding. MY wedding.

Now, I'm not getting all Bridezilla but actually, this one really is up to me.

You see, my aunt is horrible. Poisonous. She can't help herself. She's mean, she's cruel and she will never consider if she's being inapproriate as nothing is more important to her than coming out on top. And I know this will include my wedding day: she will try to make it about her.

And now my gran says she doesn't think she can be a part of my wedding. Which has broken my heart. You see, I don't have a mother or a father. I have a motley crew of sisters (well, two) who I get on with 'ok' and two other aunts who are 'with mum' on this one. So what now?

Well, some would say I should go ahead and fuck them. But what happens when His family ask where mine are? What happens when my friends from my teens ask where my gran is? I'll have to explain. Over and over. And justify myself. On the day that's supposed to be about love and fun and me and Him.

I'm not sure I can do it. So there are two choices now. I invite Monster Aunt and take the risk she'll behave for once in her life. Or We go and do it quietly. Shamefacedly.

Suggestions? I don't know now. All I know is that if my mum was here she'd have come and I wouldn't have needed anyone else.

And now, whatever happens, I'll know that it won't really be the day I wanted because my family couldn't respect my wishes just once.

Just once.

Bridal Insanity

Guess what reader(s)? I’m getting married! I’m very excited about it; I have a beautiful ring and a few, fairly low-key plans including not wearing stupid shoes, having LOADS of food (because I always end up hungry at weddings) and lots of Motown and Soul music so everyone can dance all night.

After that I’m fairly flexible.

I had ideas about the dress but it turned out it was too expensive: I’ve changed my mind to get a cheaper one.

I had a few venues in mind but my boyfriend didn’t like them: We’re going to keep looking until we find somewhere we both like.

I thought I knew what kind of food I wanted but it was too expensive; I’ve changed my mind to find something easier to manage and more affordable.

This all seemed sensible to me. We have a budget, we don’t want to go into debt, we want it to be fun and not stuffy or full of ceremony.

With my new found thriftiness (who am I kidding?) and a whole heap of excitement, I bought some wedding magazines, a scrap book to put some ideas in and starting looking online for ways to save money.

And so commenced my disappointment. Not in the available dresses, not in the selection of venues (some impossibly expensive), not in the oddities that are Wedding Favours and ludicrous invitations with ribbons, photos and bizarrely archaic wording. In the seemingly normal and almost laudable, but frankly laughable, expectations it’s okay for you to have as ‘The Bride’.

In the August 2010 edition of Perfect Wedding magazine a question is posed to ‘The Wedding Consultancy’ column: ‘My parents are divorced and although my mum is still single, my dad wants to bring his new partner to the wedding. Where should I seat her?’ Er... This is a dilemma? The ‘Consultancy’ answers in predictably soothing language, suggesting introducing her to some people informally beforehand and seating her with them. I have no problem with the question in principle or even the answer. I just want to know why the bride can’t grow a pair and seat her wherever she likes? These are all grown up people, able to speak and say ‘Hello, I’m so and so’ and get on with enjoying a lovely meal you’ve paid for. It’s finding the solution to this kind of ‘problem’ that babiefies (okay, not an ACTUAL word but you know what I’m going for) brides and turns them into this simpering figure that needs looking after on ‘their day’ because if something went wrong all hell would break loose.

My favourite was an article in Aug/Sep 10 Cosmopolitan Bride called ‘Be The Life of your Party’ with the tag line ‘Don’t let blood sugar or fussy footwear derail 12 months of careful prep. Here’s how to pull off the perfect party as planned’. One fantastic suggestion is asking a friend to monitor your alcohol intake if you’re worried about getting tipsy. Look. If you’re worried about getting tipsy, it will be because you like boozing and know you’ll have more than a glass of champagne over the course of the day. And if you like boozing, how much will you like some sanctimonious friend saying ‘Lucy, I think you’ve had enough’ (simper simper) after your second glass? I’ll bet my peacock feather fascinator not at all. No, all you need do is NOT GET DRUNK. It is possible. We all do it most days (I hope).

There are masses more nuggets of advice peppered across the pages of the magazines and I sigh a bit more deeply as I read each one because apparently my focus should be on having the bestest, most special day of my life. Not the fact that I am getting married to the person I love so much, I never want to be with anyone else. I honestly haven’t read a single article (yet) that says ‘remember girls, a wedding is a nice party and have fun, but the best bit is you’re married to THAT person forever – how fan-f***ing-tastic!’

Because that’s how I feel. And if that’s how I feel, it’s pretty certain that there are a whole host of other women who do too. And how sad it will be if they don’t realise it’s okay for your wedding NOT to be perfect, because no one says ‘shake it off and get down that aisle’ when they realise the peonies in their bouquet are the wrong shade of yellow?

My wedding will fabulous even though I’m making my own cake, my own bouquets and buttonholes, wearing flip-flops and having the reception in someone’s house. Because it will be the day I get married to THAT person.

And then the honeymoon...

Holiday Baby!

Hello my lovely reader (I know that I have only you, Haribo!) - I am beyond excited.

I am going on holiday on Monday - one of the few things that makes work bearable, particularly at the moment.

I know I should work extra hard in the lead up and have a proper hand-over but, let's face it - I'm not a surgeon! No will die because the Trial Balance doesn't or that profit is more than £100k down on estimate.

So, with that in mind, I'm spending the weekend sewing holiday clothes, drinking wine and packing.

Crete here I come. However, whether or not I come back is a whole other matter...

Restless

I am restless. It's that time again when I start to wonder what I can change. Usually it starts with minor, seemingly insignificant things (this time it's stopping biting my nails) and it slowly escalates, until I work out what it is that's eating away at me.

But I know what's wrong really. It's my job. It's always my job. I'm lucky in some ways: I'm respected, liked and do a good job but, equally, I don't love it. I don't even like it. But this is what I do and I have accepted that I'm An Accountant.

But it means that the restlessness will always kick in - it's just a waiting game. It hasn't been long this time - 18 months. But now 'The Feeling' has come, I know that I need to find a new job. One where I can start learning again, one where I hope the boredom won't set in too soon, and one where there'll be so many more reasons that it will be preferable to the place I am now.

So the search has begun - I've updated the CV, I've reactivated the Monster status to 'Actively Searching' and I've applied for a bunch of jobs that I know I can do. I'll now have to talk to a stream mind-numbingly stupid Recruitment Monkeys who don't know less about accountancy than my cat and attempt to stay motivated where I am.

Because here's where the danger is: I've already left my current job. Physically, I'll head there every morning, put in the hours and smile the smile. But mentally I've already gone. My brain is occupied with what to take on holiday and whether I can lose 2 stone in 3 months (experience tells me I can't). Even my debt repayment plan makes an appearance now and again. Anything to while away the time whilst I sit at my desk wishing the time away and wishing another life. And this is the Danger Zone, when mistakes happen, balls get dropped and my ever shortening temper finally breaks.

Please don't let it break.

Self Sabotage

I start things constantly. I can't remember the last time I finished anything. I start diets, fitness regimes, studying, being tidy or something equally arbitrary but I never finish. Except a bottle of wine or maybe some kind of computer game.

My resolve only lasts as long as the voice in my head stays silent.

I woke up this morning and I felt great. I had a nice light weekend: minor wine consumption, an aerobics class and a lot of Animal Crossing and I woke up feeling positive.

Then I got to work and it went downhill but I don't know why. People were nice, I got lots done, I had some fairly successful meetings but by the end of the day I was drained having consumed nothing but empty calories. The sugar crash remains and I feel like a zombie. All I remember is the voice telling me I should have the 6th chocolate digestive. It didn't help and even as I ate it I knew it was only going to make me feel worse but I didn't stop. I never stop. I just crumble.

Still, it's often about appearances. As long as I seem the opposite of the emotional mess that I actually am, people are happy. My boyfriend is happy. My friends are happy.

And I pretend to be happy.

Dance In Your Pants

My dearest friend and co-dependent drinking buddy, Hannah-Bo, posted the other week about the songs that she likes to dance around her living room to, wearing pants and not much else. I mightily enjoyed said blog and thought nothing more of it, for dancing in pants can only be the pass time of someone who does not have logs for legs. However, a gauntlet was thrown: Hannah-Bo demanded my list and seeing that Othona rose so admirably to the challenge, here is my Pant-tastic selection:

1. The song that makes every 'woman of colour' with an arse want to shake it. My boyfriend will blare this from the spare room when he wants to see me as he knows I'll be there shakin' within two bars.



2. A new love this one, it makes me sing and dance like a mental.



3. This one takes me back to university, smoking until stupid o'clock, and screeching like a banshee.



4. I can't describe to you how happy Diana Ross in general makes me and this song is just IT (so long as Hannh-Bo and I can sing along Sing Star-stylee).



5. I heard this song for the first time when I was about 14 on an advert for Beverley Hills 90210 and was instantly captivated. I took me years to find out what the song was called and now I know, I'll never forget. Makes me happy happy.



6. Not strictly a dancing one, but MAN this song changes me as a person. I AM Gladys Knight when this song comes on. Ooooh, *shivers*.



7. I don't know if Vicki reads this blog, but this one is for her. This song was OUR song. We OWNED (sorry Hannah Bo - pwned) this song. The build up at the beginning still gets me excited and I want to run to a dancefloor.



8. This one shames me me but I don't care. I can only do this justice in my living room - no one else ever needs to see me dance to this but Xtina has nuthin' on my ass.



9. This song is just fun and sad at the same time. It makes me feel like summer and I want to strut down the road like I'm cool and I've got it going on. I don't. But when this song comes on I do. A Party-pant essential.



10. I don't know how it does, but this song gives me energy - it comes out of my pores (but in a non-gross or sweaty way) and I can keep dancing even if 2 seconds ago I was on the verge of collapse.