Goin' To The Chapel

So, let’s talk about the wedding.

It took nearly 9 months of planning and 24 years of wishing, but it happened at long last. On October 13, I married Howard Rosen, the man of my dreams. In the course of myriad decisions surrounding said Event, he became my husband, my partner, my very best friend, my (other) maid of honor, and my son’s Daddy. Excuse me, our son’s Daddy.

In the midst of making all my dreams come true, I managed to dip down to a svelte 144.875 on Saturday morning. I haven’t seen 144 since the 1970s, and wow, that was cool.

I don’t expect the weight loss to last. I was running around like a madwoman all week, shunning my usual shy ways and smiling and talking more than I usually do, which apparently burns all kinds of calories. I was also picking at my food, rather than eating it, so my guess is that the 2 pound loss is a wedding present to myself, and now I will have to spend the rest of my life knowing that I weigh more “now” than I did On My Wedding Day.

Of course it meant that my gown, which was sewn to my body 3 weeks before was now sliding down off my sad little shrunken rack, and so I spent the evening hitching it up in a most unladylike fashion. I also discovered during the cocktail hour that I was stepping on my dress whenever I moved, and so I had to hold my breath during the whole of my first dance with Howard. That was interesting, but surprisingly very easy, since I was so nervous, I wasn’t breathing anyway. Sometimes I can be very lucky.

The evening had its moments, and while most of it was spectacular, a few things need to be showcased. One guest intimated that I should consider a Jugs “refill”, since I’d lost so much of my décolleté in the slide down the scales. Another hinted that I should consider an Octopus-ectomy, so I could show off my new body, rather than having to shroud my Mommy Tummy with beads or low-slung jeans. She actually thought I chose my gown in order to camouflage my midsection. It saddens me that some people are so unhappy with themselves that they would assume I’d be just as self-critical, and would welcome their ‘friendly’ advice.

These teeny pieces aside, the evening was a delight. The men all looked dapper, the women beautiful, and despite a little Chuppah Hiccup at 5pm, the room glowed with color and light. My heart thumped so hard as I waited for my turn in the processional that the silver beads on my gown jumped with every breath. I was sure I would faint from anticipation, and then, when I turned the corner and stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, joy and elation overwhelmed me. I saw Howard at the front, and while I sensed the people around me, my eyes focused forward and my mind shrank to Right Now. Forty weeks of plans, problems, decisions, and splitting endless hairs and bills with Howard, and it all melted away in that moment. Here I was, at the top of the aisle, and at the end was the destination I’d yearned for the whole of my adult life.

My darling boy sat with Lynda the Nanny-Goddess and her amazing husband, Karl. DS smiled and was quiet throughout the whole of the ceremony. I know this only from talking to Lynda, since I didn’t see him. I was looking for him in the front row and worried that he’d want to jump up and get married, too. He stood with us during the rehearsal and even walked with me during one of the practice processional runs.

I feared it was a mistake to include him in the dry run, but I couldn’t stop myself. Howard and I had talked to him about getting married for months, and whenever we brought it up, he’d always say, “I want to get married, too.” So it seemed mean not to include him in the rehearsal. Even so, including a 5-year old in something and then asking him to sit silent and invisible the next night borders on the cruel. But he was an angel throughout, and then, when it was over, he fell asleep at the head table, with his head on my lap and my fingers stroking his hair.

It, like nearly everything else that night, was perfect.

In the end, just as Howard predicted, it didn’t matter that some folks no-showed and that some folks posted that I would have preferred stay home. It wasn’t My Night (I didn’t want that), and it wasn’t anyone else’s either. It was elegant, beautiful, and when it was over, I had Howard as my Husband For Life, and DS had an in-house, at-home Daddy.

Wow.

In the array of parties and hoopla that surrounded the rehearsal and the wedding, I managed to get chided for abandoning my blog readership. My new Aunt, “Queens” was most vocal. “You’re going to start blogging again, right?” Another friend huffed at the lack of material the last 2 months. "I'm not going to start working at the office, you know. Post up, baby. Wedding's over. Come on already."

Well, promise made, and promise kept. I may be the happiest woman on the planet, but there’s all kinds of things to skewer in my new role as "now, what's your new name again?" Married life may mellow me, but the sharp-tongued gal lives on. A Rosen by any other name, and all that.

The honeymoon is officially over. It's time to get back to work.

A the R(eturning to Regularly Scheduled Ranting)