So today I was informed that my brother is of the opinion that I feel like his wedding is something I’m not excited about, and I’m more concerned with my own life that I’m not excited for him. That I feel the wedding is something to be wedged into an available weekend in my life. Um, I’m sorry, but WTF? This fucking wedding has consumed all waking hours of my non-work life for the last few months I feel like. It’s not even MY wedding. My friends are so tired of hearing me talk about it I’m sure.
I have done the save the date cards. I have bought eight dresses to wear as a bridesmaid only to return them ALL. I have another five that arrived today that I need to try on. I spent a few weeks working on the gift with my mother’s help for the last bridal shower. I have an engagement party this weekend–outside, in the sleet no less–followed by a bridal party excursion to Kings Dominion so we can ‘get to know one another’. Next weekend is the bachelorette weekend, which I am SO over as something I wouldn’t have done when I was 21, much less 38. The weekend was chosen because it is the same weekend as another shower. Oh, and while we’re at it, the other bridesmaids have decided to throw a surprise shower for Carrie that weekend. A naughty lingerie shower. Which I am enough of an old fart to admit that I don’t enjoy them. Plus, ew. This is my baby brother we’re talking about. I’m pretty sure my future SIL isn’t wearing a chastity belt (or if she does, that’s kinky stuff between her and my brother), still there is an ick factor. That doesn’t count the six hours I spent yesterday coming up with the monogram design for the hotel gift bags to show mom today, and once I get paper tomorrow I have to make 60 of them. Oh, and let’s throw in prepping for the rehearsal dinner and the photo station, the wedding itself, the brunch afterwards, and oh yeah I STILL HAVE TO FIND A FREAKING DRESS. And playing the sister-therapist role as my father is his usual prick-of-a-self, along with his wife, and insults and offends Drew by not coming to a single blasted event. So he vents to me. And I can’t say “what’d you expect, that is what he has done since before we were born”, instead I have to be sister-therapist. Then you throw in Thanksgiving and the usual family drama that makes me want to move somewhere around Boulder every year this time. . . .
But I digress, for after all I evidently am only thinking about myself. And to a point that is true–I’m thinking about myself to the point that I am working my ass off so that I can PAY for all this stuff, for if I don’t work I don’t get paid, and god knows the showers alone are bankrupting me. I am thinking about myself to the point that I am trying to find a freaking black dress that conforms to the “tea length, must have some sort of sleeves, no additional ornamentation, no sparkles” rules that I was given (side rant: there’s something to be said for the hated bridesmaid dress. They pick it out, you buy it, you probably hate it, you never wear it again. End of story.) I am thinking of myself in that this wedding is three days that I have to take off work, and therefore not get paid, right at Christmas. I am thinking of myself in that I have a house that needs to be cleaned with a snow shovel at this point to clear a path through each room because I am not home enough to clean.
Yeah, I feel really fucking selfish, you asshole.
And maybe just a bit bitter.