There’s just six days to go until the wedding folks, and guess what I got this week? Yes, that’s right, I got me some RED WEALS. Aaargh! You remember my red weals, don’t you? They were the huge, ugly ass red marks that appeared underneath my eyes last year… I finally concluded that they were being caused by my beloved Touche Eclat concealer, so I stopped using it and the weals went away. Until now.
This week, you see, the red weals have come back, and they’re back with a bit of a twist, the twist being that they’re now appearing both underneath and above my eyes. More specifically, two eyes have red weals above them, one eye also has an attractive, puffed-up red weal underneath it, too. With less than a week left until my wedding, this is obviously really handy, isn’t it?
I’m freaking out a bit here, to be honest. And in answer to the questions I just know you all will be asking: no, I have not been using any different products recently. No, I have not changed my skincare routine. Yes, it does seem like I must be allergic to something, why yes it does! BUT WHAT? For the love of God, what is making my eyes go all red like this, and, more importantly, HOW DO I STOP IT?!
Well, first things first: I am not wearing any makeup. I’m a complete makeup free zone here, and this means that I also won’t really be going out of the house much this week because oh my God, I look scary without makeup. The weals must away, though, and as I don’t have time to try and eliminate things that could be causing them one at a time, I’m just going to have to eliminate everything, all at once. This completely sucks, as you can imagine. I mean, I’m sitting here looking like someone punched me hard in the face, and then I sat up all night crying over it, and trust me, this is SO not the look I was planning on having for the wedding.
Gah. Gah, gah and thrice gah. And also: I wonder what will go wrong on the other five days?
Well, folks, there’s just thirteen days to go until what everyone keeps referring to as "The Big Day", and because I am crazy I have decided to try and document my final fortnight of wedding preparation, so that one day when I’m old and even more crazy I’ll be able to look back and say, "Hey, I really spent a lot of time thinking obsessively about the wedding, didn’t I?"
So, without further ado, let the record show that today was spent shopping for a new hairdryer after mine blew up at the weekend. No, that has absolutely nothing to do with the wedding, but it was very annoying because, seriously, that sucker cost me £25 and I could totally have bought yet another pair of shoes for that, GOD. The old hairdryer really did explode, though. It was very dramatic, with a bang and a flash of light, the smell of burning filling the room, and me squealing in terror like a little girl. £25. SO not how I wanted to spend my money this month.
Anyway, after that we went round to see Terry’s mum, who presented us with a wedding gift of lovely, snuggly new dressing gowns, and the balance of the universe was restored. Um, that was pretty much it on the "wedding planning" front today. I did make some lists, mind you, because I’m all about the lists and can’t really be trusted to go anywhere without first of all writing down all of the many items I’ll need to take with me. Because we’re leaving for our honeymoon the day after the wedding, and will be spending the night of the wedding at the venue and the night before it at my parents’ house (well, I will be at my parents’ house. Terry will be here, and will probably spend the evening making as much mess as possible), this list-making of mine is particularly important because OH MY GOD, how will I remember everything? (Answer: by making lots of lists, obviously. Note to self: remember lists)
Oh, I also ordered books from Amazon. And I made an appointment to go and see the optician so that he can check my eyes and hand over the new contact lenses he’s had for THREE MONTHS now and which I haven’t had time to go and collect – thanks, Projects of Doom!
So, that was today. Only 12 more to go…
* Do you all have the song by Europe stuck in your heads now? Because I do.
So, that thing I said about having finished all of my Projects of Doom for the month? Scratch that. Actually, my life just seems to be one huge, endless P.O.D at the moment: no sooner is one finished than another one comes along to take it’s place. Damn.
The most recent project isn’t really a P.O.D., to be fair. It’s a 1200 word feature, and the deadline isn’t until next Monday, but between now and then I also have to think obsessively about the wedding, examine my face for evidence of incoming spots, think some more about the wedding and… well, you can see how the time fairly slips away, can’t you? Of course it doesn’t help that everyone I meet says, “Ooh, not long now! I hope you don’t get one of your Second Head spots just before The Big Day, because that would suck!” (Well, they don’t say that exactly, but THAT’S WHAT I HEAR. Oh yes.)
Anyway, I’d love to write more on this fascinating subject but … I can’t be bothered. Here, have a Rubinman update instead…
Well hello there, didya miss me? No posts for a whole week: why, it’s almost as if my impending wedding made me freak the hell out, and I spent EIGHT ENTIRE DAYS googling the phrase "mirror mirror on the wall, who will be the prettiest bride of them all?" and wondering whether I’ll fall over in my dress (answer: probably), isn’t it?
Well that’s not what happened, so you can all stop looking at me like that RIGHT NOW. No, this is what happened to stop me blogging:
Yes, those are my shoes. Aren’t they pretty? Say they are pretty. The problem with my shoes? Well, see, that’s not all of my shoes. Not even close. That is, however, all of the storage space available to them. (Actually, I tell a lie: there’s one of those dangly shoe-storage things in the office, and an Ikea shoe thingy in the porch, but those don’t count because the shoes in there are totally my B-list shoes. Urgh.) You can see my dilemma here, can’t you?
Don’t worry, though, I haven’t spent the entire eight days worrying about this. No, some of the time has been spent worrying about how on earth I’m supposed to fit all of my clothes into one three wardrobes. How did they fit in there before I started cleaning? Where will any new clothes I buy live? Why is our house so stupidly small? And hey, did the council cleaning van just CLEAN AWAY MY BROWN PICKET FENCE or did I imagine that? (Note: I did not imagine it. The council actually swept away part of our poor fence as they cleaned the street. That fence? Doomed. Doomed, I tells ya…) Other things I have done in the past eight days:
- Completed all Projects of Doom. Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we’re free at last!
- Watched Terry repaint the entire house – or start to, anyway. He’s not quite done yet, and he’s not getting out to play until he is.
- Cleaned most of the house, which will obviously have to be cleaned again after the painting
- Shopped.
- I totally thought there were more things to put on this list but nope, obviously not. Ah well…
So, basically I’ve been putting my affairs in order, which makes me sound like I’m dying, but I’m not. (Well, not that I know of, anyway. I did have a suspected brain tumor earlier this week, and also a malignant melanoma, but that’s quite a good week for a hypochondriac…) This frenzied activity has been mostly inspired by the wedding (it’s that whole "fresh start, let’s clean the house" thing. As you can imagine, I’ll be lots of fun to be married to) but it really needed to be done. Next up: the cleaning of the office. Now I bet you can’t wait for me to report back on that, can you?
It’s March, people. March as in "Oh-my-God-I’m-getting-married-this-month-March". THAT March.
Holy crap. I know everyone says this, but doesn’t the time fly? We booked our wedding on the 31st March 2006, one year to the day before it was actually going to happen, and it really, really feels like it was only yesterday. It felt like it would never, ever happen, and now here we are, in MARCH, and by the time this March goes out (like a lamb, hopefully. Please, March, go out like a lamb: a lovely, spring lamb, with maybe some sunshine, hmmm?) I will no longer be a spinster of this parish, but will be an old married laydee. Gulp.
 Actually, despite the "out like a lamb" comment above, I think the weather is the only thing I’m not worried about. By making the decision to get married in Scotland, we pretty much knew that we were setting ourselves up for bad weather on our wedding day. And really, who cares? It’s all inside, so it’s not like we’ll be having to wade around in wellies or anything. So the weather? Can totally do its worst. I’m not worried about it. "Blow winds, crack your cheeks!" as …somebody in King Lear once said. You can totally tell I’m an English Lit graduate, can’t you?
Things I am worried about:
- Me getting one of my famous "second head" spots
- Or a cold sore
- Or the cold
- No one turning up
- People turning up, but HATING everything
- My shiny new veneers falling off on the morning of the wedding, revealing the PEG TEETH beneath in all their glory
- The plane crashing en route to the honeymoon
- Or on the way back
But other than that, I’m just totally excited about it all. I know people always go on about how stressful it is planning a wedding, and how terrible it must all be for us, but really, it involves buying shoes and makeup, how bad can it actually be? (Answer: pretty damn bad, if the PEG TEETH get a look in, actually)
Anyway, we celebrated the month of March this morning by listening to a few hours of White Van Radio. Funnily enough, the cacophony of noise stopped at around about the same time I started hanging out of the bathroom window with my camera, trying to use the zoom function to read the phone number printed on the door of the van. I guess the Van Men realised that what they were dealing with here was not just a woman with a low tolerance level for noise, but a CRAZY woman with a low tolerance level for noise. Oh well. Later, I took the dog for a walk, and was overtaken on the footpath – THE FOOTPATH – by a kid riding a motorbike. Oh it’s a cold wind blows through the ghetto for sure…
YES! It’s that picture of me at Orocco Pier last summer AGAIN! When will I get tired of posting it? Um, probably next Sunday, when we go back there to meet the photographer, and we get a new one to replace it with. The day this picture was taken we’d been to Orocco Pier for lunch, and I ate so much cheese that it gave me a migraine which – HELLO! – was totally not a migraine, but was in fact a BRAIN TUMOUR. Ah, those were the days. (Note to self: no cheese at wedding)
Well, the last remaining temporary veneer bit the dust – or rather, the bread, because that’s what I was eating at the time – about an hour ago. I’m now the proud owner of not one, but two freaky looking teeth, and with just six short weeks to go until my wedding day, am now uglier than I have ever been in my entire life – and I’m including those lost years with the poodle perm and the Liam Gallagher eyebrows in that statement.
Seriously, I look absolutely repulsive, and I’m not saying that in an attention-seeking, "tell me I’m pretty!" kind of way, but in a "no, I really do look repulsive" kind of way. Even the dog won’t look me in the eye at the moment. And OK, I know it’s really superficial to be whining about my teeth when as we all know, it’s inner beauty that counts – INNER BEAUTY, people – but GOD, I wish I could hide in a darkened room until Monday.
Just to add to all the fun, the PEG TOOTH and its pal, having been hidden from the world for 16 years now, aren’t exactly filled with joy to be feeling the wind upon their faces again. They’re both really, really sensitive: even breathing in sharply is painful, so at least I won’t be tempted to hit the Ben & Jerry’s for a while, even although I SO RICHLY DESERVE IT.
My torment will end on Monday at 1pm. However, a new fear has now risen it’s ugly head – or ugly teeth, rather. The new fear: what if the new veneers fall off too? What if they fall off on the day of the wedding, and I have to get married looking like this? Would it be reasonable to invite my dentist to the wedding, do you think, just in case? And to include the words "even if the PEG TOOTH comes back" in Terry’s wedding vows?
Figures I would wait until the month before the wedding to get all Bridezilla, doesn’t it? And I was doing so well, too…
OK, last post about my teeth, I promise*. Even although I know how utterly gripped by the whole saga you all are.
* Until Monday, obviously.
Yes folks, as you can probably guess from the title, it was a bit of a weddingy weekend Chez Amber. I picked up my wedding dress from the dressmaker (who, by the way, hasn’t called me "slutty" for ages now, so it’s all good), and paced around my parents’ living room in it for a good long while. We took Maria (flower girl and niece) to my parents’ house to let her try on her dress. We talked obsessively about what the last dance music should be. We did not come to a decision. We searched the house for my missing birth certificate, but couldn’t find it so had to go and get a replacement. We would have gone to Moss Bros to get Terry’s suit fitted, but Terry wrecked his knee while running at 7am on Saturday morning (don’t ask) so that put paid to that idea. And, other than that, we pretty much sat around going "OMG what if no one comes to the wedding?!" Or rather, I did.
You see, last week, the invitations went out. It was both exciting and scary at the same time: exciting because, WOO HOO WE ARE GETTING MARRIED! Scary, because…. well, what if no one comes? WHAT IF, people? So far, I think about 8 people have said they’ll come. This is not a lot of people though, so I’m starting to imagine scenarios in which I arrive at the venue and there’s JUST US because no one else came, because probably they all hate us or something. Gulp.
It’s all starting to feel very "real" now. And while I’m starting to get excited, it’s all a bit difficult because I still have a huge Project O’Doom to finish, and until that’s done I’ll barely have time to even think about the wedding, let alone plan for it, or get excited about it. My POD deadline is February 28th, though, and I think there will be only one more POD to go after that before I can finally draw a line under the workworkwork that’s been going on since the start of the year and actually, you know, clean my house and plan my wedding. Eeek.
Roll on March…
I hate Mondays. I particularly hate those Mondays, though, that kick off with me having two teeth ripped from my head. I mean, isn’t that just a totally sucky way to start the week?
Of course, it wasn’t actually my teeth that were ripped out of my head. No, it was my veneers. Yup, those ugly ass veneers are no more, and I have to say, as much as I hated them, there was a part of me felt a little bit sad as I cleaned them this morning for the last time. Well, I mean, they have been with me since I was sixteen. I’ve had those veneers for longer than I haven’t had them, if you know what I mean. I’ve had them for so long that I can’t really remember accurately what the teeth underneath look like, and I think this is the main reason I got so worried about today’s trip to the dentist. It wasn’t that I was scared of the pain: it was the fact that this face I’ve had for half of my life now was about to change permanently, and WHAT IF IT CHANGED FOR THE WORST?
Needless to say, it did not change for the worse. Well, I mean, it did – I have temporary veneers on at the moment, and the temporary veneers? Are yellow. Yel.low. So yellow, in fact, that I’ve just had to make a panicked call to the dentist saying ohmygodpleasetellmeIwillnotlooklikethisforever. They’re also really fragile, apparently, which means that I now have a couple of dozen cans of soup in the kitchen, and will be on what I call the Dental Diet for the next two weeks, eating only mushy foods, so that my temporary veneers don’t fall off, reavealing the PEG TOOTH in all its (un)glory. So I’ll also get to lose weight too – excellent!
What’s not so excellent? The way Terry has been totally taking the crap out of my droopy, “I’ve just been to the dentist” mouth. Why am I marrying him again?
In slightly better news, though, remember when Next were harrassing me by phone for no reason whatsoever? Well, I wrote to complain, and they have given me £25 to spend. Yay! Free stuff!
I’m going to the dentist on Monday. It’s costing me more than I earn in a month. I AM GOING TO DIE, people. TO. DIE. And it’s not that I’m scared of the dentist. Not really. I mean, sure, I get a little apprehensive about it, but it’s not like, say, going to the doctor’s, where they could take one look at you and give you five minutes to live now, is it? No, it’s not the horrific pain I fear: it’s The Ugly.
I’ve been afflicted with The Ugly since I was a kid with a bad poodle perm and an unfortunate dress sense. In fact, come to think of it, it was probably those things that caused The Ugly in the first place. Well, those and the PEG TOOTH, obviously. For yes, folks, I had the misfortune to be born with a PEG TOOTH. Actually, no, that’s not right: I wasn’t born with the PEG TOOTH. If I’d been born with it, a) I’d have been a mad crazy FREAK BABY WITH TEETH and b) It would have fallen out years ago, along with all of my other baby teeth. So no, I wasn’t born with it: it’s one of my adult teeth, but you wouldn’t really think it because a PEG TOOTH, for the benefit of the uninitiated, is a tooth so tiny it’s almost invisible to the naked eye. Mine is right next to my front teeth, and is – let’s not mince words here – ugly. UGLEEE. Or it was, anyway. I haven’t seen it for, ooh, about 14 years now, because the very second I was old enough, I took myself to the dentist and had some veneers fitted. Yes, I’m vain. SO?
Time passed. The PEG TOOTH was forgotten. Terry, for example, didn’t even know it had existed until a few months ago, when I noticed that the two veneers I’d had fitted (I had to have a veneer on the tooth next to it too, because the PEG TOOTH is so small one veneer wouldn’t have been enough for it) were looking a little bit the worse for wear, and when I say “worse for wear” I mean, “I’d rather wear a bag on my head than be seen looking this”. And, bearing in mind that in less than two months time I will be having wedding pictures taken which will be on display FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, it was clear to me that drastic action would need to be taken.So I went to see the dentist.
The dentist took one look at me, and pound signs started flashing before her eyes. Seriously, I could see them. “Both veneers will have to be removed,” she told me. “Then replaced. We’ll do it on Monday, so you can have no money right before your wedding. Have a nice day, now!” Damn. I knew she was right, though. I mean, I’m at the point here where I’m seriously contemplating cancelling the wedding photographer, or making him sign something to the effect that he will not under any circumstances take pictures of me in which my teeth are visible, so Monday it is.
I am troubled, though. On Monday, the existing veneers will be removed and replaced with temporary ones. What if something goes wrong? What if she tries to take the veneer out and the PEG TOOTH comes with it, and then I can’t get new veneers because there will be NO TEETH to stick them to? What if while she’s removing the veneer, she breaks off both my front teeth by mistake? I mean, she’s promised she won’t, but what if she does? WHAT IF, people?!
Also: the temporary veneers will be very, very fragile. What if they break, and everyone gets to see my PEG TOOTH?
I’m troubled. Other things that trouble me about the dentist:
1. When she’s looking in my mouth, and then she turns away to get something, or to do something, and I don’t know how long she’s going to be. Am I supposed to just lie there with my mouth wide open until she turns back to me? What if she’s cleaning something, say, and it takes her five minutes, but I don’t know that’s how long it’s going to take? I’m just going to be lying there with my mouth wide open, like an idiot, aren’t I? What must that look like? (Answer: pretty freakin’ hilarious is my guess).
2. I wonder if they have CCTV in the surgeries, and if maybe when the dentists have their annual Christmas party or whatever, they show back the tapes of all the people lying there with their mouths open while the dentist’s back is turned? God, what I wouldn’t give for a copy of THAT tape…
3. When she’s finished working on my teeth and starts talking to me about the next stage of treatment, but doesn’t put the seat back into the “upright” position, so I’m just lying there flat on my back looking up at her while she’s talking to me. That’s kind of funny, isn’t it? But if I sit up, and the chair is still reclined all the way back, and there’s nothing to support my back… well, THEN I’m just sitting there with my legs straight out in front of me, like a doll or something, and IT STILL LOOKS WEIRD.
4. Oh God, I’m going to totally think about this now when I’m in The Chair on Monday, aren’t I? And it’s going to make me want to laugh, and what if I start laughing while she’s injecting me, and the laughter makes my head move, and she, I don’t know, injects me in the eyeball by mistake or something.
5. I AM GOING TO DIE! Seriously!
PEG TOOTH. AAAAARGGH!
Right, that’s it, I’m writing off February. It’s OK, really: I mean, February is always a bit of a write-off anyway, but this year? This year is a doozy, for no sooner had I filed the copy for Huge Project O’Doom Number One, leaving me with only HPODs 2 and 3 to deal with, than I get commissioned for… go one guess! Did you guess “a huge Project O’ Doom”? Congratulations, you guessed right! There seems to be some weird law that states I must never have any less than three HPODs on my plate at any one time, GOD. I cannot even explain how stressed I am at this point. I’m seriously not joking when I say I haven’t cleaned my house in three weeks now. Or, you know, LEFT my house much. My deadline for HPOD3 is February 28th. Thirty one days after that? I get married. MARRIED. Yes, folks, there’s less than two months to go now until the wedding. I really should start planning that, shouldn’t I?
Of course, I have been doing SOME amount of wedding planning. Of course I have.
Things I have done to plan the wedding:
- Ordered almost every piece of makeup Benefit make. Yes, I am officially Benefit’s bitch, and I? LOVE IT.
- Bought shoes for the honeymoon
Things my mum has done to plan the wedding:
- Everything else.
So, yes, thanks mum! You rock! I suck, but it’s totally not my fault because OH MY GOD THE STRESS. I mean, last night Terry and went out for our Valentine’s Day dinner, purely because it was the only window of opportunity we had, there being no chance AT ALL that I will be able to leave the house, or even my computer, again until March now. So, yes happy Valentine’s Day, everybody! Hope your February’s better than mine…
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