Wedding dreams featuring chlamydia, madam?
10.08.15, 10:10 am

So, just two random friends of James’s parents are coming to the wedding, but one of them is apparently a wife-beater, so that’s great. I don’t particularly want a wife-beater at the wedding, but God gives no shits for my troubles. I’ve had two dreams in the last week about the wedding. In the first one, I was marrying someone I didn’t know and was stood in front of the altar thinking, ‘Hang on, I don’t actually know this guy and this is maybe not a great idea’. In the second one, I discovered that James had given me chlamydia from having an affair with someone else, and that he didn’t want to marry me anymore. What the actual fuck?

Just spent 10 minutes scanning through people’s wedding photos on Facebook to see if their bridesmaid dresses matched their usher ties. And they do. 95% of the time I can see right through the Wedding Land bollocks and think, “Anyone who points out that my ties don’t match my dresses can have the vegetarian meal and a seat in between Uncle Gary and Auntie Tina”. But then on Saturday we were sat chatting about the wedding cake with James’s mum’s friend, who’s very kindly making it for us, and I mention the tie/dress problem and she gets a look on her face. A look that says, “But if the ties don’t match the dresses then how will the 800 formal photos look?” And instead of smiling and mentally moving her onto the Gary and Tina table, I think, “Oh shit, I’ve bollocksed it all up. Why didn’t I think about this at the beginning, and take James’s kilt to the dress shop and match the dresses that way.” However, writing these entries at least allows me to get back to that 95% zone and realise that I’m not Jesus, I don’t have perfect omniscience and that I have bigger problems to worry about than ties. Like the timing of my period.

Now, there’s good news and bad news on that front. My period was 10 days late last month, and has suddenly arrived 4 days early this month. So in the blink of an eye, I’m suddenly not due on the wedding day, which is incredible news and fills me with joy. Except, my period is NEVER early, and never never early twice in a row. So now the joy is tempered slightly with, ‘Oh God, is there something wrong with me biologically?’ I like the idea of me being able to change my body’s reproductive behaviour through sheer mind power alone, but it seems so very unlikely. However, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

In the first moment of genuine good luck and fortune, the only pair of normal-looking ivory-coloured wedding shoes that I found online and promptly ordered came yesterday, and they actually fit and feel relatively comfortable and can go down as a job ticked off. Thankyou God and all your Holy helpers. I then made James stand next to me in the mirror and kiss me like we’re in front of the altar so that I could check it didn’t look stupid owing to the 13 inch height difference. Result: the shoes take it down to 11 inches so it’s still a bit big, but I think we’ll get away with it. To be honest, I can’t do much else, because I can’t walk in heels at the best of times, never mind whilst down an aisle dragging a lace curtain behind me whilst everyone I know watches.

James and I had a conversation about both being organ donors walking back from the supermarket the other day. I initially pitched it as a light, cheerful, by-the-way chat, but it actually turned into quite a sweet, earnest talk about how I was signed up for all organs but that I didn’t mind if at the crunch he decided that he couldn’t say yes to donating my eyes, because it’s quite an upsetting idea. And then I felt a huge rush of love for him, because he’s so sweet and kind and clever and strong. And it makes all the wedding stress worthwhile, because soon I get to marry him.

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