I’m trying to get Blogger to let me change my “identity,” but it looks as though the best that’s going to happen is adding my married-lady Google account as an author to the blog. So don’t be confused…there is only one Megan around here, she’s just in a weird, between-names place. (What a great excuse to have ADD and just create a new blog, though, right? I’ve been toying with the idea of naming a new blog “Hot MES,” because those are my initials and I am often in ridiculous situations. I feel like it’s dumb to call myself “hot,” though, so that is a problem. Opinions?)
Anyway, to the task at hand! Since there was very little blogging lead-up to Wedding Day, let me fill you in on some key stuff: the event coordinator at the venue (cute downtown hotel) hadn’t proven herself any more useful as time passed, I had a completely disastrous post-alterations fitting in which it was a challenge to get the zipper up (tears, shockingly, did not ensue), and I had completely lost the ability to sleep past, ohhh…5:30am? And yet, as it got closer and closer, I got more and more calm. I was able to tune out the idiocy of the coordinator (and ended up loving the hotel’s day-of person), I went on this crazy (and probably pretty unhealthy, though I was still eating) diet and lost enough weight to be comfortable and attractive in my dress (and haven’t gained back all the weight since, yay!), and I made the most of my all-the-time wakefulness with a ton and a half of craft projects. I was ready!
We got married on a Sunday, and people started getting into town around Thursday, which made my decision to only work Monday a pretty easy one. Things really started on Friday, when my mom and stepdad threw a wedding-weekend-kickoff cocktail party at their house. It was a lovely evening, and a good reminder to me that, since I wasn’t eating much, maybe I shouldn’t drink a ton. Unlike an engagement party that my mom and stepdad had thrown for us last August (well, last-last…it was August 2008), my dad wasn’t invited– not to be hurtful or exclusive, but I would say that it’s the norm for divorced couples not to invite their exes to parties. This isn’t terribly important now, but will become more so later. (Just trust me, ok?)
On Saturday morning, I took my maid of honor and bridesmaids out to breakfast and had scheduled a mass mani/pedi appointment for any in-town ladies who wanted to get together pre-rehearsal dinner– this included out-of-town people and friends of mine and my mom’s, etc. However, when we were on our way to the nail salon, I got a call from the owner, confirming my appointment for Sunday. As in, the day of my wedding. This would not do! Luckily, we all got our nails done and no one was the wiser– and I think that was my only episode of “bride brain.” Thank god. We arrived at the hotel later that afternoon for the rehearsal, during which my dad spotted the very meticulous timeline I’d put together on a bridesmaid’s clipboard. Pointing at the entry for the Friday cocktail party, he asked my friend, “See that?” Gulp. “I wasn’t invited.” Fun, dad, thanks for that.
Saturday night was our rehearsal dinner, a delicious and less-stressful-than-I-feared spread put on by MaGP and PaGP. As the spokesperson for the couple, I got to be the one to give the thank-you speech and kick off the slideshow, a tearjerker complete with Ben Harper soundtrack (seemed more appropriate at the rehearsal than the wedding). I (unlike a certain spouse of mine) wrote all my cards to parents and the soon-to-be in-laws and husband, and finally managed to get some sleep.
Now, I could give you a blow-by-blow of the wedding day, tell you about hanging out in the hair-and-makeup room with the girls, listening to music from Glee to pass the hours and hours before the ceremony, waiting anxiously to do the “first look” photos with GP, and mildly panicking when I was told it was time to go and my fricking dad was nowhere to be found, but all you really want are pictures, right? Well, who am I to deny you? (NB: these are just stolen pictures from Facebook, not the lovely ones that I anticipate from my awesome ninja photographer.)
Then, what seemed like about 2 minutes later (seriously, our ceremony felt so short!), we were married. Good thing we had practiced that kiss!
What we had not practiced was appropriate hand-holding. Let me explain: by the time we were getting closer to the kissing part of the ceremony, GP had developed a death grip on my hand, and my ring was digging into my left pinky finger. It did not feel awesome. But as the kiss got closer and closer, I knew I couldn’t pull back, pause, and go, “Ow! Nice hands, please, sir.” So I just went with it. And, not to bombard you with pictures of us kissing (I assure you it was an appropriate kiss), but come on… (and look how happy GP’s sister looks!)
With all the kissing and finger-mangling done, we were ready to take our triumphant walk back down the aisle as husband and wife.
I had to pause for a second to collect myself…
(don’t judge my double chin! I love this picture despite it)
After the cocktail hour, we had the dad and stepdad toasts (respectively short and blessedly tear-free, and long and sentimental), we ate our delicious meals, had the best mens’ and maid of honor’s toasts…and at some point got to eat cake. I love this picture because it shows a fraction of the awesome job our florist did.
He also made us some gorgeous centerpieces (there were three styles in all, distributed among our eleven tables). That program, though (and the ninety-nine others just like it)? All me.
Here we are cutting the cake– less awkward than I feared, and with an Ingrid Michaelson accompaniment– with our super-sweet photographer all up in our grills (oh yes I did).
When I have the much-anticipated pro pictures, I will share some of my favorites, but for now, I leave you with this: one of the more adorable ones of my brother, who was so sweetly teary the whole day. (And called me the previous Thursday to say that the Jim/Pam Office wedding made him cry because he was thinking of us. That kid!)
Up next: some honeymoon recaps!