In Which I Prepare for a Wedding

Y'all, I'm weary. In an effort to keep everything above reproach, I've spun circles around myself to explain that I am NOT pregnant, I am NOT cohabitating, and a host of other NOTS. So in that vein, I say to you - you have every right to judge me for the content of today's blog. You have every right to lecture me. But this post is just supposed to be a funny story about wedding prep. So can you just judge me ever so quietly and let me continue to giggle at myself for the ridiculousness that is this portion of the adventure?

I am a schedule sort of girl. I pride myself on specific chunks of time set aside for things like devotions and exercise and basic I'm-really-not-a-hoarder cleaning. But I think when the Bible said that pride goes before destruction, it was referring to the engaged woman. The engaged woman whose life (especially when only possessing 60 days in which to plan a wedding) is suddenly taken over by things like dress shopping, vow writing, alteration appointments, hair color, and making lists of things to pack. (Plus about 400 more things.) (Plus trying to see all the friends who want to meet my fiance before the wedding.) In order to do those things, you have to give up life's more basic pleasures.

Like showering. (I'm KIDDING. I still take showers.)

So the whole firm resolve to do the 30 Day Shred EVERY DAY from 30 days ago until the wedding has morphed into a flabby resolve to do a few crunches when I have 2 spare minutes between projects. (The other day, that was when Ryan was busy assembling a TV. I tumbled onto the floor beside him and started contorting into awkward versions of crunches. He stifled a laugh and said, I'm so proud of you, honey. Good answer, Love.)

Instead I've tried to cut my portions at mealtime, cut out pop, and any froofy coffee drinks that don't come in a non-fat version, and snack on things like graham crackers rather than Blizzards.

But a couple of weeks ago, when I had time to do the 30 Day Shred, I woke up the next morning and my inner thighs were SCREAMING. I saw Ryan that day and as I gingerly limped away from him, he said, "Did you hurt yourself, Baby?"

I threw a disgusted glance his way and said, "As a matter of fact, I did. I put my heart and soul into that stupid workout so I can look pretty in my dress for you and the ONLY area it seems to have affected is MY INNER THIGH. I think I'll put a note in the wedding program to please take special care to notice the slim inner thighs of the bride - WHICH NO ONE WILL SEE IN MY DRESS.

(Warning: this is the part where you might be tempted lecture. I beg you to swallow it.)

Ryan and I are getting married on the beach. As in...in the sun. Ryan suggested we tan in preparation for this.

I haven't tanned in 10 years. Last time I did so was in preparation for a wedding in which I was a bridesmaid sporting an ultra pale blue dress and my ultra Casper complexion was not a good match. So I tanned. And then I said...no more. I knew it wasn't good for my skin.

But I'm getting married. In a white dress, which, last time I checked, is even paler than ultra pale blue. And we're going to honeymoon in the sun, so it would be good to have a base, I suppose.

So I looked up a tanning bed and made my way in to buy a package.

The girl-who-is-really-good-at-her-job at the front desk also talked me into a bottle of lotion, and I made my way into the little room and prepared to tan.

But you know how it goes. You can only reach SO far when self-lotioning. And given that I'd just met the girl at the front desk, I didn't think I should run back out there to see if she could get my back. (That and the large picture window overlooking a major highway....)

So.

I did the best I could and I tanned. (And nearly had a heat stroke. They should air condition those things.)

And the next day I yelped when I got in the shower because APPARENTLY the lotion on the back failed ENTIRELY. And I'm burned all the way down my lower back and the ahem...lower than that region. WITH (oh don't miss this part) - a white stripe down my spine where apparently the bulb did not exist.

So I'm a pink and white skunk on my backside. The parts everyone can see? No visible sign of color.

So I say this to you - after I get married and you see pictures? Please take note of my hard work for slim thighs and a well-tanned back.

Sigh. At least it makes for good blog fodder.