Now I honestly believe that there is no way possible that I started out this crazy. I never burst into tears because a certain pink was 1/64th darker than another. I never went over a year without cutting my hair, and subsequently looking more like a lion when I wake up in the morning than a so called glowing bride, (not even a trim) so that I could have 'options'. I also certainly never flew to another city for a weekend because a dress would be cheaper there.
So what exactly has turned me into such a nutcase? A ring, and a proposal.
I was never in my life one of the little girls playing 'weddings' growing up, and I certainly have not had mine planned since I was nine. As a young woman I was never obsessed with it ever either. I knew I wanted to get married, but I didn't have a boyfriend so I didn't dwell. I just had fun.
If we flash forward a few years you'll notice I changed a bit. I still did not obsess and plan, however I was in a committed relationship, and I wanted to get married. So when Jeremy got down on one knee, gave me a beautiful ring and asked to spend the rest of his life with me, of course I cried. I did not however have a tantrum that not even the 'plus 8' from Jon and Kate could begin to rival.
I'll admit that things started out normal enough, we made our 'yay we're engaged' phone calls and answered all the questions, listened to the oos and aahhs over the ring, bought magazines together, and talked honeymoons late into the night.
I sauntered around town, taking every opportunity to make my ring known to everyone. Really everyone. If you were in Alberta and there was a blonde girl practically shoving her hand so close to your face you thought she might be trying to pick your nose? That was me. And I'm sorry.
So keep reading, follow me through my breakdown, and hopefully I'll make it until next July 31st, 2010.
