As with all big life events, I found out about my friends’ engagements via Facebook last week. Actually FOUR of my friends announced engagements online in the past week, one of whom is divorced and therefore officially lapping me, COME ON!
But we’re going to talk about the friends who are marrying each other. I grew up with the guy and got to know and become friends with his girlfriend once they got together.
His announcement was a “She said yes!” That’s cute, that’s sweet. And then he posted pictures of the (absolutely ridiculous) ring. That makes me want to throw up.
Her announcement was, “FINALLY!!!”
Yes. With three exclamation points. That makes me hate the player AND the game. I mean, really? As the dude, doesn’t that make you want to kind of take it back?
Lately I’ve been wondering when you go from being a normal person who wants to spend the rest of her life with a wonderful man and celebrate that with something simple and fun surrounded by family and friends to someone who dresses up nine of her “closest” female friends in obnoxious, expensive dresses and arranges the ladies in order of height, hands the DJ a three-page long DO NOT PLAY list and threatens to cut her poor, wonderful man because he said he liked the calla lilies over the Leonidas roses, or worse, that he didn’t have a preference.
When I went to a baby shower a few weeks ago, I decided that if I could hide a pregnancy, I would because the second you start to show, everyone and their mom wants to talk to you about their pregnancies and babies.
EVERYTHING at the shower was met with a “when I had my Marsha…” or “that’s the best [fill in ridiculous baby apparatus]” and even a few, “well, that’s nice, but my Marsha always preferred…” from one of the attendees in particular. Mommyjacking at its finest.
Being a relatively small person, for some reason people like to comment on the fact that when I do get pregnant I’m going to be huge and I’ll be put on bed rest and can I even physically have kids? Mind your own business…why are you even talking to me about this?!
Whatever, I might look a little silly. Or adorable, we’ll call it adorable. It’s not often you see a small woman on I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant. As a healthy 120-pounder (with abs that I’m already mourning the loss of), I’m sure other people will notice when I start growing a basketball on my front side.
But as long as I can hide it, I will because I do not need nine months of people telling me how I’m going to do everything wrong and how hard it is and that my names are stupid (I already know that, but I like them).
Similarly, as much as I’ll want to be THAT girl who tells the whole internet what a tool my fiance is for taking so freaking long to propose and then bore them with the obnoxious details of wedding planning, I do fully intend to hide that.
I’m not the first person in the world to get married and since everyone who’s ever planned her own wedding considers herself a wedding planner extraordinaire. I see a long engagement as an invitation for months of unsolicited advice being thrown at me about what they did right and what I’m doing wrong. No thanks.
And that’s how I feel for now. You know, until a man puts a ring on it and I turn bat-shit crazy.