Oh, Holy God:

 

I have four days before our wedding.

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Not Sure if “Paranoid” Or Just “Bride”:

 

On my list of things that I am currently afraid of happening at our wedding:

1) My bridesmaids actually hate their dresses and are just being kind about them
2) We are, in fact, having a hipster wedding (but…but…there’s no Pabst! and we’re not serving kimchi!)
3) In five years, I’m going to hate the dress I wore
4) My dress will turn out badly (through no fault of Amanda’s)
5) My mother will, in fact, be incapable of putting her damn camera down
6) Our guests won’t like the food
7) We won’t get a photographer
8) My leaf garlands will look stupid and tacky and all my snorting at Michael’s Crafts wedding aisle will be for naught
9) I will wish that I had worn sleeves
10) My grandmother will say something snide and insulting about my body
11) Our geeky references will just appear snotty
12) No one will RSVP and we will have 400 guests show up and will have to send a groomsmen to Costco for food
13) I will trip on my way down the stairs, taking Ben with me, bashing in our teeth, and end up both dead and homeless
14) It won’t be beautiful

 

Anyone have a Quaalude they can give me?

Yesternight’s Workout:

 

x3

20 squats
20 tuck-ups
20 bench jumps/tuck-jumps
250m run
1 min extended plank

 

I’m still processing my grandfather’s death and memorial.
There is so much I want to say about all of it,
that I’m just choking on the whole thing instead.

I am so grateful for my sister, for The Boyo,
and for the dear friends who listened to my first explosions
after the memorial.

Thank you for holding me.

Thank you for helping me both feel and be better.

Everything That Rises Must Converge:

 

My extended family is converging on Southern California
for my grandfather’s memorial.

Among the ridiculous things I have done to prepare for this onslaught:

1) Situps and pushups every night because my family is a family of skinny asses, except for me and my mom (thanks for the thighs, MOM)
2) Squats in the shower (see above)
3) White strips for my genetically murky teeth (DAD)
4) Frenetic face washing in the hopes that those pores will shrink (MOM!)
5) Spanx dance
6) Trying on every. single. piece. of. clothing. in my closet because showing your collarbones in my family is immodest
7) Realizing that I own ONE boat-neck blouse, and it is probably “informal”, according to the Boyo
8) Panicking about the correct date to get a manicure, since I will be making floral arrangements for the services
9) Putting a tablespoon of coconut oil on my morning toast, because
Someone Said it will make my skin prettier
10) Dropped almost $300 on a haircut and color so at least
my head looks presentable
11) Started counting calories again

12) Cried.

13) A lot.

 

And if all of this sounds like just so much sturm und drang
You haven’t interacted with my family.

Because what I should be thinking about are the
memories I have of my grandfather.
What I should be thinking about is how much I’m looking forward
to seeing my cousins again.
What I should be thinking about is how to help my grandmother.

 

I am not.

Because I am not good enough for my parents.
Never have been.
Never will be.
Nor am I good enough for my grandmother.
I was never defended from her acerbic tongue by either of my parents,
not as a child,
certainly not as an adult.

I could show up at the memorial,
dressed to the homeschooled nines
(because we’re not legalists like those Mennonites!)
in an ankle-length jumper,
crewneck blouse,
tights,
and flats,
with my hair hidden under a long-ass wig,
and my family would still find something to criticize.

Your ELBOWS are showing! HUSSY.

 

That’s just what they do.

Thirty years of this,
and I am still voiceless.

 

So I will do what I have always done:

Go.
Wear something reasonable.
Smile.
Say very little.
Find a corner to hole away into every couple of hours.

 

I wish my sister was coming.

 

Update: Sister was able to get a ticket after all!
I am so, so grateful that she will be there.