Diary of a Mad Bride (11 page)

T
oday at the staff meeting Barry made a not-so-subtle remark about the “Faces in the City” issue being behind schedule.

Which it's not. I've got it all in my head. I just need to commit it to paper, have Kate type it up, and get Mr. Spaulding's approval before distributing it throughout the office.

The issue focuses on ten of the city's most influential and intriguing residents. So far I've come up with nine. I'm certain the last one will come to me any day now. I've done an enormous amount of research, but I've been stuck on number ten ever since the Concessions Stand Proposal. And since it's my first issue as editor, I want it to shine. I want it to have my distinctive mark. Especially now that Barry's on the prowl.

I assured everyone that they'd have my complete list of ten “Faces” within the week.

I
couldn't stand it anymore. I've spent the last three months trying to pretend it didn't matter. But it does. So I finally broke down and asked Stephen why he chose the candy line of a stinky movie theater on Broadway to ask me the most important question of our entire lives.

The minute I asked I knew I'd done something horribly wrong. He looked like I'd told him the NBA Championships had been canceled.

STEPHEN

I was trying to be romantic. Don't you remember? We had our first kiss on the candy line of that stinky movie theater.

Oh, God. He's right.

STEPHEN

We were waiting to buy popcorn and all of a sudden I couldn't stop myself. I just had to kiss you. You were just so beautiful.

I remember that kiss. Pure spontaneity. It made me tingle from my head to my toes. It was the nicest kiss I ever got. And I had entirely forgotten about it.

But not Stephen. He made the world's most romantic gesture by proposing to me at the very same spot as that fabulous kiss and I screwed it all up by complaining. My fiancé may defy his gender's genetic coding with his sensitivity, his tenderness, and his affection, but I've disgraced mine by acting like such a GUY!

How can he ever forgive me? How can I ever forgive myself?

I
'm assuming Stephen still wants to marry me despite the fact that I'm a heartless bitch, because he's been arguing with his parents about their outrageous guest lists for our wedding. He's managed to get his dad's list down to ten, but his mom is still hovering at sixty-five—including the ever-popular Hans Lindstrom, who, it turns out, is her
optometrist
and
favorite client. She redid his cabin in the Adirondacks last spring.

If I were the one doing the arguing I'd point out that $5,000 buys a limited number of seats to our nuptial celebration. And that the only venue we'll be able to afford with that budget is the school auditorium in Love Canal.

But then, that's me. Stephen's got a whole other way of handling things. Being a software developer/computer programmer, he focuses on the “logic” of the situation. Logically speaking, would Hans really be insulted if he weren't invited?

For the record—the answer was yes.

I
presented my list of “Faces” to Mr. Spaulding today. He was thrilled with my choices. Particularly number ten—Reverend Dai-Jung Choi, a minister from the Unified Church who's married over four thousand New York–area couples in the last twenty years.
²⁰

T
he guest list debacle rages on. My parents are down to ten, Mrs. Stewart's holding at twenty, and Mr. Stewart has stopped at five. Unfortunately those five include Misty and two of her relatives. Stephen is furious. He's argued all week with his father, but Mr. Stewart won't budge. To him, accepting Misty's relatives at our wedding is synonymous with accepting Misty as his lover.

Well, Stephen doesn't accept Misty, and the mere act of Mr. Stewart referring to her as his “lover” made Stephen physically ill—and has set Mrs. Stewart on a rampage. First she told Mr. Stewart's college alumni magazine that he left her for a man. Now she's threatening to set fire to the wooden elf he spent years carving and which, being in the backyard, qualifies as her property. This was the first I'd heard about an elf statue. Stephen says it's beyond ugly but that his mother kept it all these years for sentimental reasons. Now she wants to torch it.

It reminded me of the ice rose/human brain that Stephen carved for me. Apparently a lack of artistic talent runs in the family. Thankfully Stephen's got the sense to work in a temporary medium.

And while I have to assume that our guest list won't come down much below the current 120, Chapter Nineteen of
BB
claims that an average of 25 percent of invitees will be unable to attend the wedding. This leaves us at 90, which is 20 more than we originally wanted but 130 less than when we started this debate, so I won't complain.

Official THINGS TO DO List

1. Choose wedding date

2. Tell boss wedding date

3. Vacation time for honeymoon

4. Decide on honeymoon

5. Get minister

6. Choose reception venue

7. Make guest list

8. Choose maid of honor

9. Choose best man

10. Register for gifts

11. Arrange for engagement party

12. Buy engagement ring

13. Buy wedding rings

14. Buy wedding dress

15. Choose maid of honor dress

16. Order wedding cake

17. Hire caterer

18. Hire band for reception

19. Order flowers for ceremony

20. Buy shoes

21. Plan rehearsal dinner

22. Invites to rehearsal dinner

23. Hire musicians for ceremony

24. Decide on dress code

25. Get marriage license

26. Hire videographer

27. Hire photographer

28. Order table flowers

29. Order bouquets

30. Order boutonnieres for men

31. Order nosegays for women

32. Order invitations

33. Decide on wine selection

34. Postage for invitations

35. Choose hairstyle and makeup

36. Buy gifts for attendants

37. Buy thank-you notes

38. Announce wedding in newspaper

39. Buy headpiece

40. Buy traveler's checks for honeymoon

41. Apply for visas

42. Get shots and vaccinations

43. Order tent if necessary

44. Order chairs/tables if necessary

45. Make budget

46. Divide expenses

47. Make table-seating charts

48. Choose bridesmaid dress

49. Decide on menu

50. Decide on hors d'oeuvres

51. Decide on dinner-service style

52. Decide on staff-guest ratio

53. Decide seated or buffet

54. Reserve vegetarian meals

55. Reserve band/photographer/videographer meals

56. Make photo list

57. Choose hotel for wedding night

58. Hire limo for church-reception transport

59. Buy guest book for reception

60. Find hotel for out-of-towners

61. Decide on liquor selection

62. Hire bartenders

63. Verify wheelchair accessibility

64. Choose processional music

65. Choose recessional music

66. Choose cocktail music

67. Choose reception music

68. Choose ceremony readings

69. Prepare birdseed instead of rice

70. Schedule manicure/pedicure/wax

W
ere less than seven months away from our wedding and we still don't have a venue. I'm afraid it's time to face the music. Even Prudence has that “all right, already” look.

We'll have to get married at one of our parents' houses.

Since Mr. Stewart now lives in a singles complex, I'm ruling him out immediately. In theory, we could get married at my parents' house, but I don't see why we should since Mrs. Stewart's house is bigger, more beautiful, and infinitely more comfortable for a wedding. After all, she's got a tennis court, and two bathrooms on the first floor.

S
tephen refuses to ask his mother if we can get married at her house. He said the last thing he wants to deal with is his mother's insanity. He's worried that she'll smother us with questions, concerns, and demands and that she'd make everyone, especially him, miserable.

Not to mention the fact that she'd sooner eat Chuffy with a knife and fork than allow Misty and two of her relatives into the house.

I reminded Stephen that we are now six months and eighteen days away from our wedding, without a place to hold the reception. But he wouldn't budge.

Now I know how Joseph and Mary felt.

A
fter combing through bridal magazines I decided to begin shopping for the most important, most photographed, most expensive item of clothing I will ever wear once in my life—my wedding dress.

Luckily
BB
has several tips on the subject:

1) Make sure it's not too small. You may not lose those ten pounds.

2) Make sure it's flattering from behind. The ceremony gives everyone a nice long look at your rear.

3) Make sure you can raise your arms to dance. It'd be horrible to rip it during the reception.

4) Make sure it photographs nicely.

I already knew that I didn't want any of that Cinderella ball gown nonsense that you see in the movies. My wedding dress will be elegant and fashionable. Like an evening gown you'd see at the Oscars. I want an ankle-length dress with a narrow silhouette in silk jersey and off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. Sure it'll be white, but it'll be sophisticated.

T
he only thing I look worse in than a bikini is a narrow silhouette dress in silk jersey with off-the-shoulder cap sleeves.

First off, silk jersey has no shape of its own. It just falls where you do. Every bump, bulge, and roll you've got is nicely highlighted. And underwear? Forget it. It's not going to happen.

Second, the narrow silhouette is seen so often on catwalks and at the Oscars because only supermodels and famous actors can afford the liposuction necessary to fit into it.

Third, cap sleeves were not designed for anyone with an upper arm thicker than a baguette. They draw your eye to the widest part of the arm and leave plenty of room beneath it for that extra roll of skin to flap freely in the wind.

Oh, and the last thing—either Bianca Sheppard's cleaning up in alimony or she's selling her internal organs to science, because these dresses cost thousands of dollars.

Vera Wang must have a house for every season.

I
'll be celebrating my wedding in the inner circle of hell.

Commonly known as my parents' backyard.