“I think maybe a leotard, Moana’s necklace, and a Burger King crown on your head.”
— Kid, age 6, when I asked him what I should wear on my wedding day.
Tag Archives: fashion
We Understand Each Other
I had my hair trial for the wedding today.
Me: “Before we begin, I think it’s important to stress again that I am a VERY sweaty person, and this MUST be taken into consideration when planning a hairdo.”
Hairstylist: “Don’t worry. I’ve done a lot of Jewish brides.”
Perfectly Normal, Appropriate, and Classy Statement to go on a Wedding Website
Most people just write 2 or 3 words, like “Cocktail Attire” or “Black Tie Optional,” but I thought I’d do us all a favor and leave no room for questions or confusion.
I’d Like to Spend One Day Inside His Brain
I have notoriously disturbing dreams, clearly driven by my anxiety. Sometimes they’re straight up terrifying horror shows, other times they are just upsetting and leave me feeling uneasy, like last night’s.
Eric: “Did you sleep ok? You were tossing and turning.”
Me: “No. I had a dream where, for whatever reason, I was walking around a mall holding thousands of dollars in a bag. And I stopped in the mall arcade, and put a $1000 bill in the arcade machine, even though I meant to put in a $10. But then it was too late. So it ate the money and gave me tickets. But then, I actually ended up winning all these vouchers– like thousands of dollars in vouchers. All I had to do was go claim it. But then somehow I misplaced the bag with my cash and vouchers, and I ended up losing all the money I started with, plus the money I won. I started panicking, sweating, running around the mall, trying to retrace my steps. Everyone was telling me how irresponsible I am. And the more they said it, the more I panicked, but no matter what I did I couldn’t find my way back to the money, and nobody would help me.”
(silent pause)
Eric: “I dreamt that I wore my new Uggs and someone was like– ‘you don’t have to wear socks with those, they’re so soft!'”
Maybe Start Celebrating It
A mom and her small child get into the elevator with me…
Me (to child): “Ooooh! And what are YOU dressed up as for Halloween? Whatever it is, you look awesome!”
Child: <blank, confused stare>
Mom: “Oh she has no idea it’s Halloween. We don’t celebrate it. This is just what she decided to wear today.”
Oh.
Well then she looks ABSURD.
Nothing More Annoying
In terms of wedding dress shopping (or life in general), there is pretty much nothing more annoying than when your mother disapproves of the choice you’ve made, and insists you explore other options because you just “never know.” Excuse me, but I am an adult, and I do know. I am perfectly capable of making this decision on my own. But fine, you came in to NYC, so I will humor you and go to ONE MORE PLACE and try on that dress that I would NEVER have thought to pick for myself, just so you can have the satisfaction of knowing I DID give your ridiculous opinions a shred of consideration.
Which leads us to the ONE thing in the world which is even MORE annoying than when your mother doesn’t trust your judgement–
When your mother is right.*
Bought the dress right on the spot.
About 398459238490 times better than the one I picked.
Thanks, Mom.
*I reserve the right to deny this post during future arguments.
Here’s What I Took Away From That Story
Kid: “Did you get a wedding dress yet?”
Me: “No, not yet. So many choices! It’s hard to decide on one.”
Kid: “You should do what my mom did. She had four different dresses. She had one for the pictures before the wedding, then she walked down the aisle in another one, like a big princess dress, and then she did the party in a different, shorter dress so she could dance and then she had an even SHORTER one for the party AFTER the wedding. She got them all at Vera Wang.”
Yeah your family needs to pay me more.
Yeah I Don’t Know How to Do This
What are the chances this bridal shop even lets me in the door? 
#ImWithHer
HUGE fail that bitmoji isn’t offering a white pantsuit option this morning because this girl is feeling INSPIRED.
#besticoulddo
Isn’t it Ironic (the lost verse)
This weekend Eric and I went to a beautiful wedding at the American Museum of Visionary Arts in Baltimore, as one of my oldest and dearest friends was getting married there. We had just been to Baltimore the weekend before for Eric’s friend’s wedding, so I felt pretty confident in my packing-for-a-Baltimore-wedding skills and didn’t go through my usual anal-retentive, checklist-obsessive packing routine.
Big mistake.
An hour before the wedding, I realized that I did not pack a bra.
Not a huge problem, as my dress (and my boob size) didn’t necessarily require one, but I had never worn the dress without one. So needless to say, I was a little panicked and self-conscious, and I made Eric swear 50 times up and down that you couldn’t tell my boobs had no support. I also turned down his gracious offer to cup them in his hands the entire night. I don’t know, I just felt like that might draw even more attention.
Then we arrive at the wedding, my boob anxiety rising, and what is the FIRST thing we encounter? This.
A HUGE. FUCKING. BALL OF BRAS. 18,000 bras to be exact.
“Look, it’s 18,000 more bras than you’re wearing!” Eric yelled. Loudly.
And in that moment I couldn’t help but feel I was living out that Alanis Morissette song. You know, the one that goes “It’s like 18,000 bras in a ball, when all you need is one to wear…”
Or something.
But come on. That is ironic. Don’t you think?
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