Sticky Honey Skin or…. Party?

With a mere six weeks before our wedding, I’m doing something that I never see recommended by wedding blog checklists: Partying.

A few people in my life have asked me “What can I do? I feel like I’m not doing anything,” in regards to the upcoming nuptials.

That, bitches, was my point. Even before my tit was lopped off and replaced with a bag of saline, I wanted our wedding, and planning, to be easy. Fun, even. Z and I did as much as we could in advance, way in advance, not even knowing what our engagement would hold.

And thank goodness, because now that the worst is behind us, we get to spend the rest of our engagement, well, engaged.

We’re having dinner with friends, playing with our dog, enjoying a daily brunch together.  We’re getting caught up with our work. We’re watching a lot of Breaking Bad.  I’m reading two books a week.  Z is practicing accordion. We’re taking long walks together. We’re seeing live music and drinking too much tequila.

I am not doing any of the following, which have been recommended by wedding blogs across the internets:

Putting honey on myself in the name of “bright skin,” getting anything lasered, setting foot into a tanning salon (fuck cancer), waxing things, starving, soaking in anything bizarre, wrapping myself with anything that I could eat (if I were starving, I would eat it).

There’s no hair trial, there’s no shapewear, there’s no spa day to “unwind,” because there’s no need for any of that.

The only “need” I see for myself is that I need to be someone that my fiancé wishes to marry. And stay married to.

The man proposed to me when I was ten pounds heavier. I was wearing one of his t-shirts and had my hair in a lopsided ponytail. No makeup. Chipped, unmanicured nails.

I looked like the girl from The Ring.

Though all of those checklist-things are great, the honey, the seaweed wraps, the tan skin, he’s not marrying you for those things. He’s not marrying your dress or your nails or your hair. He’s marrying you for who you are.

So you’d better be someone that he (and you) wants to hang out with.

Every day.

For a very long time.

Cheers, muchachos. May your engagements be as filled with love as mine.




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