I spent the majority of my wedding day dousing myself in perfume and searching out the air conditioning vents at our venue, simultaneously cursing the 90-degree March air and unheard of springtime heat index. My temperature sensitivity, despite countless pleadings from this bride's inner diva, decided not to take a leave of absence on the most important day of my life. My maid of honor followed me around when she could, fanning my under arms with a god-sent shoebox lid, and dabbing my forehead when and where sweat beads developed. Mother nature didn't seem to care that my dress weighed more than a chocolate addicted sumo wrestler after a year of binge eating, and layer upon layer of tulle and lace created an environment for the lower half of my body that I would not wish for my greatest enemy to endure. Should I ever feel the desire to be an inventor, wedding dresses with built-in skirt fans will be the first thing I patent. Nobody steal my idea.
At around 9:00 Saturday morning, my bridal party and I woke up and ventured down to the dining room of the Inn. My parents booked all 6 rooms for us, and the owners didn't seem to mind turning their property into a sorority house for the weekend. Of course we had rules to follow, like when and how to properly lock the front door, not to leave flat irons on for extended periods of time (apparently 19th century bed and breakfasts are exceptionally susceptible to fire), and things of that nature.
We had appointments downtown for our hair and makeup after breakfast. My carb radar smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen, and the lady of the house ended up bringing a tray full of croissants and warm butter out as a starter. I debated eating them all on my own, but opted to share in an effort to fit into my gown later that afternoon. The croissants were followed by an egg casserole and fruit salad, along with some thick sliced bacon and hash browns. We ate like birds, and in hindsight might have offended her. But when 6 sorority girls are in the same room, they tend to spend more time talking about eating than actually indulging in the act.
|We'd gotten our nails done the day before.|
The photographers arrived around 2:00 and documented the remaining preparations. My bridesmaids has already gotten dressed, so pretty much all that was left to do was zip me up. As soon as the dress was on, I started sweating and immediately wished I'd chosen to get married in the dead of winter. If there is one thing I absolutely do not tolerate, it is sweating for no reason. If I'm working out, that's one thing. But simply standing outside in the shade in MARCH and sweating infuriates me. I started complaining and any hope of capturing the dream photos I'd found on Pinterest went out the window. All I wanted to do was escape the B&B (because the innkeepers didn't believe in AC apparently...) and get to the venue where I knew it would be cooler. Obviously I regret this now.
The boys got ready at a B&B across the street -