I had a great New Year’s Eve, but because everything that happens in my life a) relates back to my wedding and b) can be twisted into a source of anxiety, I now have a few new concerns about my wedding day:
1. My dress won’t fit. My body weight fluctuates. I know this. But now I’m extra scared because a dress I bought Tuesday was, by Friday night, so big on me that even with the help of safety pins and boob tape I couldn’t get it to look presentable. I assume this is because when the dress fit on Tuesday I was only a couple days’ out from my brother-in-law’s constant supply of frosted beer mugs and my sister’s constant supply of new recipes designed to prove her worth as a daughter-in-law. So the dress that was cute on Tuesday looked like a droopy tent on Friday.
On NYE, I had a backup dress. I’m not going to have a backup wedding gown. I have no idea how to deal with this problem. I think hyper-consciousness of my size, weight, food and drink intake is probably the recommended course, but that sounds very emotionally unhealthy. Which leads me to fear two:
2. Fear Itself. In case you haven’t noticed, I have anxiety problems. Getting ready for our NYE party, realizing my dress didn’t fit, running late as I had to take time to iron my backup dress, my anxiety rocketed up. I don’t want anxiety to get in the way of me enjoying my wedding. I think maybe I should go back on anti-anxiety drugs near the wedding, but my experiences with benzodiazepines make me worry (IRONY!) about having my memory impaired on my wedding day. Plus I’d really like a few celebratory drinks on my wedding day, and booze and benzos don’t mix. Which brings me to fear 3:
3. I will drink too much. Free party advice: if you have a collaborative effort party, and the person bringing the liquor arrives well before the person bringing the mixers, DO NOT use this as an excuse to just do shots. Especially if I am there, because I will then hug you, cry, apologize to you for things I did five to eight years ago, hug you some more, explain how much I love you, cry, hug, hug, cry. [If I am on anxiety medicine, this will either not be a problem, or will be a problem even though I only had champagne during the toasts.]
But don’t worry: my new year’s resolution is CHILLAX. Because new year’s resolutions are always, no matter what, kept, I am sure that by July I will scoff at all these “concerns” and roll with the punches like the coolest of cucumbers.