by JO ABI
My wedding sucked. It was just horrible. I’m trying to think of something positive to say about it but the only positive I can think of is that it ended and I got to go home and try to forget it happened.
So much went wrong and it’s going to sound really bad. Disclaimer: my husband and I love each other very much and we are a very happy family. But….
We weren’t planning on getting married but when I fell pregnant (we were actively trying for a baby at the time) I freaked out and insisted we get hitched before baby number one arrived. He was caught off-guard but tried to get on board for my sake. He failed, miserably.
It rained. We were meant to be married outdoors in front of the harbour and we were forced inside the hotel in a cramped little room. My brother-in-law’s mobile phone rang in the middle of the ceremony. Our kiss was bad. He came in wide and I came in narrow. We should have practiced.
Mum didn’t want me to tell anyone I was pregnant but I was twenty weeks and a proud mummy-to-be. When I explained that everyone would be able to tell she asked me to wear a dress that didn’t emphasise my bump any more than it had to. So I ended up looking fat instead of pregnant.
I bought our rings. My husband was very stressed at work and didn’t have a moment to spare. I bought my engagement ring and the wedding rings for a total of $800. I called the ‘diamond’ on my engagement ring a ‘cognac bubble diamond’ because it was slightly yellow and had a bubble in it. I’m happy I lost it during our last house move.
My boobs were expanding and contracting dramatically (the joys of pregnancy). During my final fitting they were quite impressive but on the day of the wedding they had deflated and didn’t quite fill my dress. The ‘money shot’ of the night ended up being a photo of us bending down to cut the wedding cake with one of my nipples hanging out for all to see.
The cake tasted disgusting. Somehow the cake maker heard ‘lots of alcohol’ instead of ‘only a little alcohol’ and one spoonful had me worrying about fetal alcohol syndrome.
No-one danced, including us. My husband didn’t want to do a bridal waltz and instead of forcing him into it like any other respectable bride-to-be I gave in. I even know the song I would have chosen – Bon Jovi’s Always.