Membership to Club Wed

I am engaged.  Yes, it’s true.  You heard it here…approximately five months after the fact.  I’m nothing, if not timely.

Planning a wedding is quite possibly the most irritating adventure thus far in my life.  That’s saying something!  I’ve dressed as a pirate for charity, I’ve been locked in and out of offices, I’ve worked in a deserted basement.  I’ve been managed by a religious zealot, I’ve worked alongside…um, no one; I’ve laughed in the face of overly cheerful temp agency managers.  I thought all these things prepared me for madness, chaos, and insanity.  But life always has a way of surprising me!

The engagement started off with my mother pulling out a dessert plate and coffee mug decorated with wacky little stick figures dressed as a bride and groom, with “WE’RE ENGAGED!” written in a child’s handwriting along the top.  She’d apparently been hoarding these novelty items and pining for an engagement for YEARS.  I guess when she saw the tacky ceramic duo at the discount store she couldn’t help herself.  She bought them and held onto them in the crazy hope that one day The BF and I would actually make things official.

When she shoved them in front of me, mere seconds after our announcement, I made a face.  You know, that face!  That face that says, “What the hell is that!?”  My mother was finally having her moment–the moment she’d pinned all her hopes and dreams upon–and I was ruining it with that face.  I should have known that this exchange foreshadowed all the moments to come.

I have made the–what I’ll now refer to as the WTH Face–repeatedly over the past few months.  WTH Face appeared when my dad insisted that he be allowed to wear a tuxedo, when my mother cursed the internet because I’d dared to look at dresses without her, when my father crashed my appointment with the defenseless florist, when my mother heralded the invaluable talent of DJs to “set the pacing of the wedding.”

Those moments don’t compare, however, to the email my mom sent asking, “What exactly are YOU compromising?”  Gee Mom, I thought I was the bride!  My friends and I had a good laugh about that as I imitated my WTH Face repeatedly.  My mother’s soundness of mind was questioned, my ability to hold my tongue was praised, good times were had!

But now it’s clear that my mom does, in fact, recognize that I am the bride to be.  She’s so hyper-aware that I’ll soon be on display, that she gave me a gym membership for my twenty-ninth birthday.

I have been in a state of shock for seven days, but perhaps naively so.  Because really, what should I have expected?  This is a woman who watches Gilmore Girls and believes we are just like Lorelai and Rory, but cannot see that she competes with Emily Gilmore for the Personality of the Year award.  This is a woman who is so passive aggressive that she shocks even the most forgiving and patient of all human beings–The BF.  This is a woman who bought a dessert plate and coffee mug with little stick figures getting hitched and hid them in her china cabinet for five years.  I really should have expected no less.

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