AIMEE: Brian and I are watching SNL, trying to decide whether Lindsay Lohan is still too skinny when it hits me: “Oh my god,” I announce. “At this time next week our wedding will be over.” Silence. We pause to imagine what life could possibly be like without a wedding to plan, without something to always fight about should either of us be in the mood for a brawl.
We’ve spent the entire day running around the city looking for rehearsal dinner and post-wedding brunch outfits: Hours at Bloomies, Banana Republic and J. Crew. We’ve now bought more than we can possibly wear in one weekend, but one wants choices.
We have used up our final reserves of strength going over the seating arrangements, endlessly drawing little circles for tables around a square dancefloor, labeling them and then furiously scratching the names out. (“No! We can’t put old people by the band’s speakers!” “Wait, why did we split up those cousins?!”)
We are eating too healthy for our own good, and beg each other to have some carbs when one of us starts getting really irritable. (“For the love of god, have a muffin!” we plead with each other.) The good news? My sources tell me this is totally normal pre-wedding behavior. I find it hard to believe.