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Sticker shock

January 30, 2011
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We’re nine months away from the wedding, and in pretty good shape. We’ve selected all our vendors (we’re doing a destination wedding, and good vendors are limited, so I’ve been on a mission to get my wedding date on their calendars before another bride scoops them up!), put down the necessary deposits and can now begin the fun stuff—the cake flavors, floral designs, etc. Being the type A, organized bride-to-be that I am, I took it upon myself to create a wedding budget sheet this weekend, complete with costs for each item, deposits and balances. I now know exactly when our balances are due, who each of our vendors are and how much—or how little, really—is in our savings account, all by simply consulting this handy sheet. Thanks to this handy sheet, I now also know that our simple, 60-person beachside wedding will cost a lovely $22,000 (at the very least) when all is said and done. Actually, make that $22,003.33—I left out the urgent Xanax refill I picked up today.

Armed with this knowledge (knowledge is power, right? Right????), I put together a savings plan. Then I had a panic attack. Twice. “Middle-class problems, babe,” my fiancé commented. He has an amazing way of putting things into perspective. And he’s right—poor me, the wedding of my dreams on the beach is expensive.

But here’s the thing. Coupled with the fact that we’re not rolling in dough is that I’m a people pleaser. And I’m asking my friends and family to come to a wedding 1,000 miles away, which means asking them to spend quite a bit of money on airfare, hotel, rental car, food…so I want to make sure they’re coming to an amazing wedding.

This weekend, I let the stress get to me. I was panicky, anxious, had strange wedding dreams and found myself clutching a bag of chocolate chips, shoveling them in by the handful—a behavior I’ve spent the last year gaining control of, or so I thought. But rather than feel crappy about myself and lament that I’ll never lose weight, be happy, wah, wah, wah, I worked out twice. After the second handful of chocolate, I through the bag in the trash and filled myself up with water. And (sniffle) I’ve decided to shelve the wine for a bit, as it makes me crave sugar, and after a few glasses, I can’t be responsible for what crap I put in my piehole.

The wedding will come and go and my bank account will empty, then slowly build up again. But I’m confident that the progress I’m beginning to make in taking care of myself, of putting myself first, will remain a constant. And you can’t put a price on that.

One Comment leave one →
  1. DebbieG permalink
    January 31, 2011 11:37 am

    I love your blog. You are such an amazing and funny writer. Can’t wait for the next one.

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