Monday, January 11, 2010


The wedding day is approaching-T-minus 18 days and counting!

I am all too excited about marrying the man of my dreams, having a fabulous honeymoon filled with lots of Sex on the Beach (THE COCKTAIL YOU DIRTY MINDED PEOPLE! Shame, Shame, Shame) and a lifetime of wonderful wonderfulness with my wonderful hubby and wonderful step-children and three wonderful dogs and my big wonderful new house, and my wonderful new mercedes(hey! A girl can dream), and my wonderful new bedding and my wonderful...okay, okay, you get the picture.

Do I have any doubts or fears about the man I'm marrying, the children I am getting or who should win The Biggest Loser season 6? NO. But....I'd be lying to ya if I said I didn't have fears about the big day.

I fear that I don't deserve him. Mark, is pretty freakin fantastic but most of the time I tell him how lucky he is to have a hot, young blonde(bottled blonde counts) 15 years his junior. I tell him, "Yeah, you may have to pick up after me now, but atleast I'm going to be able to feed myself and YOU on our 50th wedding anniversary". But, the truth is....I am not deserving of the man that I am about to call my husband. He is strong, kind, gentle sprited yet has enough fire in him to melt me. He's a provider, a protector and I really, really love him. I fear that I don't deserve him.

I fear that I'm going to mess it up...Again. IT, as in a marriage. I fear I will become the wife that I was in my first marriage. The wife who put her husband down rather than built him up. The wife who didn't cook, clean or do anything that wasn't in her comfort zone. The wife who said the words that hurt the most. The wife who let herself go and did not desire to make her husband proud. The wife who failed miserably. I fear that I'm going to mess it up.

I fear that my dress will not fit. I fear that the Happy Meal cheeseburger I just ate has now offically put me over the edge into fitting into the wedding dress I insisted the seamtress make too small. I fear that I will have some weird kind of back fat pouring out of the top of my dress that makes me look like I have a set of boobs in the back as well as the front.

I remember as a kid the mile long hallway that separated my bedroom from my parent's. EYES OPEN. HEART IS RACING. I am scared. I want my parents. I want to go to their room and be comforted by them. I want them to pick me up in their bed,wrap their arms around me and rock me to sleep. It's just steps away, but I can't go to the place I am comforted because of the hallway. I fear the hallway. There are snakes that cover the floor and ghost that seap through the walls. The fear is immobilizing. I would be happy if I could reach the safety of my parent's bed but the fear holds me back. I have to try to get to them. On the count of three. One.....two.....THREE. I leap from my bed and sprint down the hall. I'm flying. My feet barely touch the floor. I firmly grab the door to my parent's room and push. It doesn't move. It's locked. I pound on the door, screaming for my mother to let me in. I can hear them, their movement is quick yet they aren't coming to the door. "Hold on, baby", my mother yells from inside the door. I wait nervously outside the door...panicked and fearful of the invisible snakes that are sure to bite me. I pound on the door again. I hear the bedside table's drawer slam and my dad sigh. The doorknob begins to turn. FINALLY, I think to myself. My mom,wraped up in a silk robe, cracks open the door and pokes her head out. "Yes, darling", she says sweetly yet suprisingly not invitingly. I ask her if I can come in. She says NO. Why not, I ask. She says she's busy. I don't understand. I'm pissed. My mother flips on the hallways light as she takes me back to my room, showing me there are no snakes on the floor and no ghost in the walls. She tells me there is nothing to fear but fear itself. She kisses me swiftly on the cheek and tells me to go to bed as she shuts my door and runs back down the hall to join my father.

So, what was the point of that story? The point is that when you look back on what you fear, usually it ends up being pretty funny. Yes, that's right, now looking back, mom and dad, I KNOW what you two were doing in there! And the funny thing is I was scared of the hallway, but I would have been terrified of what was going on in the bedroom!

Fears no matter how big, don't determine the outcome. I am excited to prove my fears wrong and be the best wife and stepmom I can be. AND, fingers crossed.....I'll fit into that dress!


Ally said...

You DO deserve Mark and all the happiness that marriage to him will bring. And you won't make the same mistakes. You learned from them and you're better for it. I am so happy for you. You will be a beautiful bride.

And thank you for the story of your parents... Makes my parental experiences seem a little more normal. :)

Mom said...

Yes, Jen, thanks for sharing that story. Love, Mom