(no subject)
Nov. 12th, 2011 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI have to go into Southport town and pick up my wedding shoes and my new glasses which might even be the right prescription this time. Instead I am desperately hungover and having a great deal of difficulty with the concept of 'getting off the sofa' let alone 'walk to places'.
I need to stop going on work nights out. They now represent my lone hangovers. Cannot drink like I am a student anymore, and throwing up at my parent's house got old about five years ago. Self is social secretary. Buggar. Really should start acquiring willpower around wine.
I had a chat with Dad this morning about the fact he won't be giving me away as am not property and unless the chaplain insists, I will be changing the wording. I have no issue with Dad walking me down the aisle as Mum would just be a wreck and cry and I really need someone to make sure I don't fall over; it's literal and metaphorical support, basically. Dad seems okay with not giving me away, but it was mildly awkward anyway. I'm having a fairly traditional wedding, well, a lot of it sits uncomfortably with my feminist principles at the best of times, but we're dumping the stuff that doesn't work for us, and altering other traditions to suit us more. Hence the fact I am picking up fab green shoes this afternoon. Okay, I just want to show them off. But, um, yes, feminist theory and all that.
(For those that don't know, both Richie and I are changing our name after the wedding and mutually double-barrelling on the basis that he wants us to share a name, but I don't want to lose the main body of my name. And hyphenating looks like fun, complicated forms be damned. This is the sort of approach we're taking to the whole thing - mutual compromises and adapting tradition where we need to.)
I also talked to my mum this morning about wedding underwear. If I never have to have that conversation again that would be splendid, ta.
Someone is moving in across the corridor from us. I'm devastated. Richie and I have worked very hard to keep that flat empty, as one of the windows looks into our spare room. Bang goes wandering in there naked looking for a towel.
I need to stop going on work nights out. They now represent my lone hangovers. Cannot drink like I am a student anymore, and throwing up at my parent's house got old about five years ago. Self is social secretary. Buggar. Really should start acquiring willpower around wine.
I had a chat with Dad this morning about the fact he won't be giving me away as am not property and unless the chaplain insists, I will be changing the wording. I have no issue with Dad walking me down the aisle as Mum would just be a wreck and cry and I really need someone to make sure I don't fall over; it's literal and metaphorical support, basically. Dad seems okay with not giving me away, but it was mildly awkward anyway. I'm having a fairly traditional wedding, well, a lot of it sits uncomfortably with my feminist principles at the best of times, but we're dumping the stuff that doesn't work for us, and altering other traditions to suit us more. Hence the fact I am picking up fab green shoes this afternoon. Okay, I just want to show them off. But, um, yes, feminist theory and all that.
(For those that don't know, both Richie and I are changing our name after the wedding and mutually double-barrelling on the basis that he wants us to share a name, but I don't want to lose the main body of my name. And hyphenating looks like fun, complicated forms be damned. This is the sort of approach we're taking to the whole thing - mutual compromises and adapting tradition where we need to.)
I also talked to my mum this morning about wedding underwear. If I never have to have that conversation again that would be splendid, ta.
Someone is moving in across the corridor from us. I'm devastated. Richie and I have worked very hard to keep that flat empty, as one of the windows looks into our spare room. Bang goes wandering in there naked looking for a towel.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 02:32 pm (UTC)Subvert the patriarchy! (And those shoes are awesome.) I have a similar kind of taste in wedding attire: not that I'm dorky and have a pinterest dedicated to wedding attire or anything.
Dad's social anxiety means I already know he won't be walking me down the aisle, and my dislike of that bride-centred approach means perhaps we'll just all wander in there together and take our place at the front and find another way to shut everyone up. (Not the solemnest way, though.)
NOT THAT I LOVE TALKING ABOUT WEDDINGS OR SOMETHING.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 05:00 pm (UTC)I must admit to being rather a fan of the bride centred approach, because I have never been fawned over so much before or again and I am still a six year old seeking attention. The cooing from shop assistants is, frankly, lovely. (The wedding specific side still terrifies me; I'm pulling it all off via the high street!) Dad is also terrifies of walking me down the aisle, but we're going to send him to the pub beforehand which should crack it!
I LOVE TALKING ABOUT WEDDINGS I AM SO MUCH MORE OBSESSED THAN I LET ON.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 05:24 pm (UTC)Aww, that does sound lovely. It's nice feeling special.
*daydreams*