Write About Waiting

My friend Karen is so clever. Write about waiting, she says. So here goes.

Last night j. and I were trying to come up with Christmas lists, both what we were getting other people and what we wanted to ask for. I honestly couldn't think of anything for myself, which is insane, because usually I'm a greedy little b*tch and have a list a mile long of obscenely expensive items. So we perused through the J.Crew catalog and the Christmas present discussion soon turned into what suit j. should get for the wedding. We tore out a nice one from J.Crew and added it to the bulletin board next to the Gucci suit we'll never be able to afford.

"How would you feel if I had a little scruff at the wedding?" j. asked, rubbing his chin and studying the guy in the catalog.
"I don't care, baby," I said. "You can do whatever you want." Honestly, I think he looks handsome either way.
"Oh, you'll be singing a different tune soon."
"What do you mean?"
"Six months before the wedding, you're going to become a different person. Everything's going to have to be a certain way. Your way." Or something to that effect.
"No," I said. "You're wrong. I'm going to make you eat your words."

So here's the promise, committed to the internet. If I demand a clean-shaven groom in a few months time, well, I guess, I'll be the one eating my words. Am I kidding myself thinking I really won't be like everybody else? But seriously, what do I care if he shaves or not? For the pictures? Are we getting married so we can have the pictures, or are we having pictures so we can remember the wedding?

I remind myself all the time: it's just one day. It's like my motto for our wedding, which seems rather sad. But I wish everyone else would remember it too: it's just one day.