66 days and counting

I am now 66 days away from my wedding, and I am not calm. I am not reserved; I am not serene; I am not even logical. What is it about weddings that make the most sensible ladies get frustrated over the smallest things? I consider myself to be a rational and practical young woman, but when I am dealing with the price of place cards, multiplied by the number of people on my ever-expanding guest list, I seem to crumble. Deadlines for work—no problem. Deadlines for invitations—tears. 

I was never like this before my wedding. Selecting organza over silk seemed like something silly and frou frou at best. It would never bring a strong and independent woman such as myself into a downward spiral (crashing on spools of lace below). 

I now look at all the other brides-to-be. There are some who seem so happy to take on the daily task of guest seating charts or calligraphy. I stare at their sublime grins when they try on different hair pieces at the bridal shop. Are they for real? Or are they secretly breaking down and comforting themselves with chocolate bars once they return to their cars and read the bill? Or maybe they are crying at the shoe store because their pumps already have a scuff on them. 

I suppose there are, in fact, some women out there who were made for this. And I'll admit, I was not. But I believe in my heart of hearts there are more brides out there who feel just like I do. They just won't come clean. I feel no shame in saying that this wedding stresses me out. I never dreamed I would spend an entire month on the hunt for the perfect veil (which I found last night!). I can't decide on linens for the tabletops because they all seem too expensive, and I become possessed when provoked to talk about it. I avoid looking at my bank account balance like I avoid going to the doctor. This is what happened when you are 66 days in counting.

But who said getting married was easy? 

Every day I remind myself that this wedding is for my family and friends, but this marriage will be for me and forever. And somehow, it gets me through. I remember—if only for a moment—that lace and organza and scuffed pumps are trivial to a marriage. That's not what commitment is all about. These things are only important to my wedding, which will be a blip on the timeline of my life—one special (and hopefully amazing) day that will open the doors to several unforgettable events to come.

So with 66 days left, what's on my mind? 

Veils, rehearsal dinners, flowers—but most of all May 31st: the day after the wedding, and my first day as Mrs. Tova Rosenberg.