I had one of my optimistic, impulsive and reckless epiphanies on January 23.
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And when I have an epiphany, I act.
Not because I want to, but because I am a stubborn, superstitious and impulsive person by nature.
I am getting married.
Not next year, not in six months, but in a mere three weeks.
“It’ll be easy,” I thought.
“I just need a dress, a venue and a caterer,” I thought with confidence and excitement.
After creeping into the deep, dark depths of the internet for a frugal dress, venue, and caterer, I discovered there are no such things as cheap wedding dresses, venues are absurd and caterers only serve caviar, apparently.
I used to be one of those women who judged bridezillas.
“How can someone be so superficial?” I’d ask myself.
I also often spoke the words: “I refuse to pay R100 000 for a wedding.”
Ah, the naivety.
Luckily, mom intervened: “only the best for my little girl”.
Bless her heart.
With two (almost) drained bank accounts and an enthusiastic, but apathetic fiancé, I am wrestling my way through due deposits and I am torn between lilies and roses.
A white or ivory dress? Underplates or paper doilies? To garter belt or not to garter belt?
Needless to say, I don’t care about flowers; I don’t know the difference between white and ivory; I don’t understand the function of an underplate and I don’t know where to buy a garter belt.
Last Sunday something incredible happened.
A family friend spoke the truest of words.
“If something goes wrong, only you will know about it.”
This was music to my ears and had the same effect as a Californian cocktail.
For a brief moment amidst the chaos, I took a breath.
It was blissful and lasted about an hour.
There is no doubt in my mind that in about three weeks, I am going to be an emotional wreck.
But for now, I am trying to convince my family that I am not pregnant, focussing on not getting fired and praying to all holy bodies that it doesn’t rain in Pretoria East on March 3.
ALSO READ:
My list of failed New Year’s resolutions
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