If you don’t know the story, our wedding is one for the books.
From our friend getting ordained online to Angel calling me fat in my wedding dress: the day was awesome.
At a Mexican restaurant we were talking about our gripes finding a minister to marry us and a few margaritas later a good friend of ours says that it’s on her bucket list to get ordained and marry someone. We tell her “great!” And the next morning have an email from her saying that the state of Arizona considers it legal if we’re really interested. I’m aware that my family had their reservations about it, but at the end of the day I would rather someone I know standing up there with us and saying our vows with us. And you know what? It was perfect. It’s also on her Google calendar once a year to email us a reminder that she has a “100% success rate” with marriages and not to screw up her stats.
And this leads me into the point of this post: I’ve spent exactly 3 years of y life legally attached at the hip to this guy:
There are so many fun memories that I have from our wedding day. From my adorable groom-to-be breaking his jaw 2 weeks before our wedding, to my maid of honor knocking on my hotel room door the morning of the wedding with a bottle of champagne and a bottle of Pepto Bismol and saying “One way or another, I’m getting you down that aisle!”
MOH mission: Make sure that everyone signs the papers to make this marriage legal
And perhaps hold my dress while I pee:
But my favorite memories of all are these:
While preparing for my wedding I was looking for my “something borrowed” and my “something old.” I went to my Grandpa’s house:
To look for a photo of my grandma and I to put in a frame as a memorial at our wedding. He pointed me in the direction of the photo albums and set me loose. About an hour of tears and searching later, I found what I was looking for and went downstairs. I can’t say what made me go back up later in the evening, but I did for some reason and went to the other side of the room that my grandpa hadn’t pointed to and pulled out an unmarked box (first thing I went to in that bookshelf). Inside of it was an album with a letter from my grandma about a “hankie” that has been carried by woman in the family on their wedding day and how it was her wish that the tradition continue as the family grew. After the letter was the “hankie” followed by pages and pages of wedding photos of women who have carried it. And of the women in the book, no one remembered (Lori, you were one of them!). I was shocked. And speechless. After I was able to compose myself, I showed it to my mom and then took it downstairs to my grandpa. I had it opened to the letter and I said to him “Is this something that I can do?” He read the letter and with tears in his eyes and a big smile on is face he told me: “Yes. But on one condition: you add your photo to the book. Your grandmother would have remembered to give it to you.” Well, Papa, she still did. Because for some reason I was drawn to that book in that box on that shelf in that corner of that room long after I found what I had been looking for. I was pretty torn up that my grandma was missing my wedding and 2 days before “I do” I was walking out of work and a white butterfly stopped me in my tracks and landed on my shoulder. (I know I sound crazy for all that comes next) The butterfly then flew circles around me and disappeared. I’m not even kidding. Not like it flew away, it vanished. I immediately smiled and knew it was my grandma. I just knew.
On my wedding day I carried her hankie with pride:
And my Maid of Honor’s duties were fulfilled. I made it down the aisle:
And here’s where the best memory comes in. After my dad handed me off and Angel and I were walking up to the aisle, he leans over and whispers in my ear with a big smile on his face: “Um… That dress makes you look really fat.”
Before you go and hunt down my husband with torches, allow me a moment for a back story. At our rehearsal I was getting emotional and I told Angel: “If I’m crying or look like I’m about to cry when I get down the aisle you’re not allowed to say anything nice to me because that’s going to make it worse.” He said “oookkkay?” with a laugh and I told him “Say something like ‘That dress makes you look fat'” so I stop crying. And between the rehearsal and going down the aisle we didn’t see each other or talk. So when we’re all lined up and one by one I see my closest friends leave me I’m holding myself together. My dad asks if I need a Kleenex and I say “no, why?” and look at him and he’s crying with a tissue in his hand. I loose it. And then our wedding planner says “It always hits you when you’re right here. Okay, go!” and pushes us along. We’re walking down the aisle and I’m crying and laughing and my nose is running and I’m a hot mess version of myself when I reach this waiting for me
And that was it. We both laughed and giggled through our whole ceremony. A few people asked why we were laughing and we told them, but most people probably thought that we were just giggling 12 year-olds at the alter; and we kind of were.
But our amazing officiant did her job flawlessly (my husband, on the other hand, screwed up his vows but I don’t think anyone else noticed besides Laura… including me) and we were married!
Let the party begin!
And “begin” it has! In 3 years we have bought a house, moved, miscarried, had a baby, moved across the country, and it’s been a “party” for the majority of our 1,096 days that we have woken up next to each other. I can’t imagine anyone else telling me that my wedding dress made me look fat and me not wanting to punch them for it.