Sweating for the Wedding, Again

When a couple friends asked if I wanted to go to yoga with them a few weeks ago, I immediately agreed. I need to get in shape - not just because I'm getting married or because I have the upper body strength of a broom, but because 80-year-old Gladys keeps lapping me on Mall-Walking Mondays. It's embarrassing. But still, if I must exercise, I like to make it as relaxing as possible.*

So one Thursday evening, we rolled on up to an unassuming yoga studio next to a crepe restaurant. It took all my willpower not to veer off for a crepe or two, but I resisted and walked into the studio feeling pretty good about myself already. I'm a fitness queen! I thought smugly.

Most of the ladies were already there with their mats unrolled, so prepared. The lights were turned off and the ceiling fans were still; the air was thick and heavy. All was silent except for the low, soothing music and the hypnotic voice of the instructor. As I took off my shoes, the lesson began.

I quietly paid for a class and grabbed an extra mat, wondering how many other sweaty feet had touched it and eager to add my own foot sweat to the mix. I looked around for a spot in the back, but there was none.

"There's room up here," the instructor said, so serenely that I almost didn't hear her.

This is my nightmare.

Shame-faced, I made my way to the front. "I'm sorry," I whispered to nobody in particular as I tried to unroll my mat as unobtrusively as possible. "I'm so sorry for what's about to happen."

Up there in the front, I was surrounded by what I can only assume were professional yogis whose day job is Background Exerciser for a workout video.

"O, hi! This your first time?"

There's a reason I like to do yoga in the comfort of my own living room. Nobody looks at me funny if I grunt a little or shout out, "Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" Plus, I can stop the video any time I want to take a little breather or a snack break. At home, I keep the temperature a cool 71 degrees so that I never break a sweat.

This class was more than I bargained for.

It wasn't a hot yoga class, but the heat from all those bodies was overwhelming. I forgot my water in my bag, way back in the shoe cubbies near the door. I'm pretty sure I should have stretched to prepare for all the stretching, and I neglected to bring a sweat towel, because who sweats in a yoga class?

Apparently I do. A lot. Those mats are dangerous when wet - it felt like doing yoga on a slip 'n slide. But whenever I glanced around to reassure myself that everyone else was struggling too, all I saw were tiny, fit women with cute, printed yoga pants and no sweat stains in sight. That's how it goes at the front of the room, I guess. My only solace was the lone man a few rows back who was huffing like a steam engine. At least I was suffering in silence.

I'm not sure why downward dog seems to be the rallying point of every yoga class. The instructor kept coming back to it, making it fancier every time: Put one arm up! Now one leg! And the other one! Look ma, no hands! Everyone's getting this, right? It's easy! 

I wanted to shout out excuses, like "I'm not weak! My outer hips are tensing up and it is excruciating! Howzabout we do something to stretch those out before we start flinging our legs up in the air, huh?!"

As the temperature rose, so did my temper. Every time the instructor stopped to walk around and correct our form, I grew increasingly bitter. Oh, what's that? Too good to hold your own poses, missy? I thought viciously. Can't take the heat? 

I don't talk great smack when I'm that sweaty.

Feeling faint, I finally had to excuse myself to fetch my giant, plastic, noisy water bottle and gulp half of it down, skulking behind the shoe cubbies until my heart rate slowed a little. I looked wistfully outside and almost made a break for it. But I'd gotten a ride there, and it would've been a long walk home. So I reluctantly returned to my mat.

At last we came to savasana, corpse pose. The name is accurate, for I wished that I might die as I lay there in the sticky, still air. I looked up at the ceiling fans, trying to make them turn by sheer force of will. At some point I think the heat overcame me, and I gained a sense of divine clarity. I am a ship on the ocean, I realized. I am a barnacle stuck fast to a buoy, bobbing away on the waves. I'm a sea cow....

"Is everyone warm enough?" the instructor asked.

I laughed, the salty taste of my own sweat on my lips.

And then I died.



*One time while doing yoga my heart rate dropped so low that my FitBit thought I was asleep. That's my kind of exercise.

We Be On Fleek

That's not Fleek. That's Rihanna.

I got one of those wedding spam emails today. I usually delete them, but this subject line was "35 Signs Your Wedding is On Fleek." And I had to pause. And open it. And find out what "on fleek" means. Is it good or bad? Most importantly, will our wedding be on fleek, and should I be worried about that?

[You should know that I'm a prime target for advertising. Once, a waiter was describing a fancy salad that was topped with a hen's egg. When he left, I turned to Bill and said, "Ooh, a hen's egg!" Then Bill had to remind me that that's just a normal egg.]

Instead of googling the phrase, I decided to figure it out from context clues, SAT-style, yo. Here are just a few of the ways a wedding can be on fleek:

1. Your groomsmen tied their ties correctly without the help of a YouTube video. Really throwin' some shade there, wedding article. 
2. Ceremony chairs were arranged in a circle. Like sharing time in kindergarten. Super-on fleek. 
3. You provided trendy transportation - like a school bus! I rode the bus in high school. No one thought it was trendy. 
4. There were giant-sized lawn games. 
5. Including a bounce house. Apparently on fleek means "just like childhood."
6. Shots, shots, shots. Well, maybe not exactly like childhood. 
7. Guests traded in their heels for flip flops. "Come on, Grandpa. Time to change out of your sensible pumps."
8. Tears were shed. Got it. On fleek = pain and sadness. Our wedding will be on fleek for sure. 
9. In lieu of favors, a donation was made to a charity. Whaaaat? Such social responsibility after all those shots. So unexpected. 
10. At the end of the night, there were fireworks. BOOM. That is the sound fireworks make. Very good. Did an actual eight-year-old write this?

Our wedding exhibits 8 of the 35 signs so far. 

I still have no idea what that means. Except that I'm old now and not at all cool. 

Image via Betches Love This.

Treat. Yo. Self.

For reasons that are unimportant right now but somewhat related to weddings, I searched for "vintage treat yo self sign" and this came up:

Treat. yo. self.
to mom jeans!

Image via Fleur d'Elise.

10 Insanely Cute Wedding Ideas You Will Want to Steal*

Seriously. They're insanely cute. Once you see these, you will lose your damn mind. You'll be left drooling and babbling, or just straight-up screaming as your grip on reality slips away and your cracked mind becomes saturated with these crazy-adorable ideas. You'll be locked up. Your loved ones will come to visit you, but the doctors will shake their heads and say, "I'm sorry. There's no hope." So they'll leave you there in that white room with padded walls, chanting "mason jars" over and over. And over. Forever.

That's how cute these ideas are.

You've been warned.


1.  What's that? You want a Lorax-themed wedding? Look no further!

How cute are these?!

2.   No need to set the table when you have these adorable little guys. They're handy for swiping the passed hors d'oeuvres and perfect for everyone's favorite icebreaker, Stab-Face!

For when you don't want to get your fingers messy,
but you're okay looking like a damn fool.

3.   Nothing is cuter than the American flag, guys. That's a FACT. IT'S INSANELY CUTE. Now wrap it around yourself. Go ahead. Wed this great country. Do your thing, girl. You're an American princess.

4.   Imagine walking up the aisle in these insanely cute shoes. They have it all: glitter, floral print, a bow on the front, and a newlywed couple being crushed under the heel of the bride at every step. Watch out for Bridezilla, amirite?

Uh-oh! Looks like the pressure's getting to them! 

5.   WHOA. This one is almost too crazy-cute. CUPCAKES on her WEDDING DRESS? AND A FANCY UMBRELLA?! No way. Nuh-uh. It's too cute.

And delicious!

6.   Make sure you get some cheeky pictures of yourself taking an old-timey pee break. Your grandchildren will look back at it one day and be overcome by the cuteness.

"Occupied."

7.   Nobody knows cute like this bride. She designed all the dresses and had them sewn entirely out of turkey feathers. And we all know that the turkey is nature's cutest bird!

8.   Relive the day your man won you by dragging you back to his man cave where you were tied to a chair and made to watch football until you screamed for mercy, but he just turned his head slowly toward you with that maniacal grin and whispered, "Touchdown."

Ha, ha! Girls don't like sports! Ah, so cute.

9.   But the grooms aren't the only ones out to catch a spouse! This one we call "How I Bagged Your Father."

ADORBZ.

10.   Because every little girl dreams about walking down the aisle dressed as a cute, giant tampon.

The cutest.

*But don't, or I'll find you and cut you. Also that's a real subject for an email I received today.


Images via: 2/1/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

Learn From My Mistakes: Save the Date Edition

The save the dates are in the mail. Not all of them, but most of them. It's a relief, but I'll be honest with you - I have a few regrets.

1. For one, we didn't really need them. We could've sent out a mass email or a link to our website. Then all that time and money we spent on save the dates could have been put toward a much better purpose, like learning Mandarin, which neither of us knows. Now we'll never learn it. I'd like to blame the Wedding Industrial Complex for convincing us we need All the Things to express our special snowflake selves, but I can't. The WIC is just doing what it was created to do. We're the suckers who bought into it. We have brought this upon ourselves.
2. Since we did decide to make them, I wish we'd had all the information printed on them. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, don't mess around with with handwriting or stamps or sticker labels or calligraphers or anything else. It's not worth it. Don't be a hero.
3. If I had it to do over, I'd put our last names on them. In hindsight, it's pretty narcissistic to assume that we're the only Bill and Carrie in people's lives. I know at least four other men named Bill and one lady Billie. Welp, I guess anyone who's unsure will just have to visit the website to figure out who we are. Maybe that was the plan...all along.
4. Finally, I would spend less time worrying about something so minor. Ever since I dropped them off at the post office with the dull thunk! of 100 postcards hitting the bottom of an empty mailbox, I've been fretting over them like a mother hen. What if they get lost? What if they get all crinkled or torn en route? What if one of those big legal-sized envelopes makes fun of them? And has our friend Ethan figured out what save the dates are yet or will he still be confused by it? It's just too much for me.

One thing I don't regret, though, is using some cute little hummingbird stamps. They made the time and expense worth it.

O heeey, guys.

It seems other people besides my family have been reading this.

How terrifying.

Where'd you all come from?!

Because I live at least a three-hour plane trip from my nearest bridesmaid, this started out as a way to involve family and friends in long-distance planning. It also served as a place to grumble about the wedding industrial complex and to make fun of myself when I was inevitably swept up by it. I didn't expect anyone else to see this silly thing, much less a bunch of smart, funny, talented people like you. It's pretty intimidating. So thank you for being such kind human people, either saying nice things or keeping your cruel mockery to yourselves. You give the internet a good name, friends.


...Anyway, here's "Wonderwall."



Image from Arsenic and Old Lace via 

ACTIONACTIONACTIONACTIONACTION

With just over five months until the wedding, we're in ACTION MODE. I have my handy list of To-Do's for May, which includes:

• Sending Save the Dates
• Wrangling people's addresses so we can send the Save the Date
• Finishing the website before people get the Save the Dates, so that my carefully-written plea to visit it isn't in vain
• Harassing Bill to ask his last three groomsdudes to join the army of people that is our wedding party
• Figuring out what the groomdudes and bridesladies should wear
• Figuring out a cooler collective name for the wedding party
• Booking a ceremony site. You'd think we would've done this by now, but no. It's become a game of chicken - how close to the wedding do we dare book the ceremony spot?
• Booking the caterer for real. We've tested out their tacos three times in the name of thoroughness (and hungriness), and it's about time we reserve them.
• Blocking the hotel rooms. This has been on the list since January. It's becoming urgent.
• Sewing my dress. HOORAY!
• Getting insurance, just in case a hurricane decides to roll through in October or a wandering band of vikings alights at Tellus and ransacks the place
• Planning the ceremony
• Buying accessories, shoes, and lingerie (a-whoo!) (Also sorry, family, if you're reading this. That's more than you needed to know.)
• Figuring out decorations, buying knick-knacks and sundries
• Designing/printing invitations
• Planning the rehearsal dinner
• Working on the playlist, which also counts as my exercise. I put on some jams and dance like I'm having a seizure until I fall over from exhaustion. It's a very effective cardio routine.
• Trying out makeup and hair stuff. My friend Vy-Vy acted as my beauty consultant over the past week. She did my makeup twice in different styles, took me shopping, stared down a rude saleslady at Ulta on my behalf, and dropped a whole mess of knowledge on me, like what a spoolie is. And that just because the thick eyebrow look is in right now, I don't have to let mine grow wild and free. But I can if I want, because I am a strong, independent woman who don't need no societal beauty standards (but who may need some brow gel).
• As ever, walking the thin line between caring enough about my special day and not being so invested that I become a controlling, demanding monster.

Happy May!

Image via Adult Swim.

Not to Brag, But...

We had a bit of a save the date snafu the other day. In short, I had hand-written the wrong url on 100 postcards.

This isn't the braggy part yet.

I didn't quite have a meltdown; I just looked down at my poor, cramped, claw of a hand and curled up into a ball of sad noises.

Instead of saying something dumb like "Weren't we supposed to send those out last month?" Bill made suggestions and kissed my hair while I kept up my defeated little moans. When I came up to him later and showed him a small change that effectively solved the problem, he all but jumped up on the counter - he was more excited than I was that the mini-crisis was over. Not because he's particularly fond of our save the dates (although they are pretty cute) but because now this thing that had been bothering me wasn't anymore.

It felt nice, and reassuring. Like we were on a team - Team Save the Dates. Team STD for short.


...We're still working on the name.

My Best Friend's Wedding

We just got back from California where I was a bridesmaid at my friend Danielle's wedding. She got engaged while making soup, and then she got to eat the soup. That's a good day.

I managed not to dissolve into a soggy mess throughout the entire ceremony, but I did tear up when she changed her name on Facebook. And I may have blubbered a little when we hugged good bye. And a couple times on the flight down to Orange County. And possibly a few times since.

Maybe.

But it was a super fun trip and a beautiful wedding, and I'm so happy for Danielle and Dan.

Being part of someone else's wedding made me even more excited for ours. And also the tiniest bit frantic, as we have 157 days left. Seems like a lot, but that's only five months. FIVE. So after a week of visiting family, riding helicopters and private jets, eating tacos and In-N-Out, hiking, chugging around Newport Bay in a little Duffy boat, and spending as much time as possible at the beach, it's time to return to planning.

But I'm doing so with a little set of reminders for myself, which I will copy here. Because I knew you'd want to read them.

1. Finish all DIY projects early. If something isn't done by the rehearsal dinner, screw it. Help yourself out now by not planning too many projects. Ask yourself if you really need to make 127 individually wrapped, personalized, whatever-it-is-you-found-on-Pinterest. The answer, always, is no.
2. Eat. Eat all day long. Eat as much food as possible. Stuff yourself. Make everyone else eat, too. Get a dress with pockets so you can store snacks for the walk down the aisle.



See how happy we are? Because we're about to eat.

3. Get a tan. For God's sake, woman, you look like a ghost.
4. Sleep in on the wedding day. You'll be too excited to sleep the night before, so once you do manage it, stay asleep as long as you can. When you're tired, one eyelid puffs up and the other one twitches and you - really, you just - you look insane. So maybe go for a different look on your wedding day.
5. Commit to something - anything - and stick to it. Indecision will destroy you. In fact, it's already started. Look at yourself. You're falling apart. 
6. People will get stressed. They still love you. Probably.
7. Spend time with people. Apart from legally getting married, that's the only thing that really matters that weekend. That, and eating. Do not forget to eat.
8. The guests will like the wedding. They will have fun. They will dance. There's a good chance that your closest friends and family won't be huddled in a corner making fun of your wedding. So you can stop worrying that it's going to suck. 
9. But if it does suck, your family will stop loving you.
10. Is it fun? If not, chuck it. That goes for everything from this moment on. If something isn't fun to plan or do or talk about, give it about ten minutes to become fun or throw it out. If Bill stops being fun, chuck him out, too. But that means you have to watch yourself, or you'll have the uncomfortable job of throwing yourself out of your own wedding. Oh, the shame.