You know what’s really similar to wedding planning? Dieting. The more you do it, the more you wonder what life would be like if you boarded a plane to Italy without telling anyone. All that Pasta al Pomodoro, Pizza Margherita and general lack of people with opinions about you. For example, it’s highly unlikely that you’d bump into someone in Italy who wanted to tell you, in depth and with visual aids, exactly how a wedding invitation is ‘normally’ worded. And even if you did meet such an individual, you could just push them over in a way that you probably couldn’t with say, your mother.
The photograph above is a perfect example of where I’m at wedding planning wise. It was last weekend, when Tom and I ventured into the city to do essential wedding admin. I’m smiling because ten minutes before it was taken we ordered our wedding rings. I’m standing like a robotic penguin because after it was taken I promptly had an anxiety attack over a crayfish sandwich (which, like every aspect of the wedding industry, was hideously overpriced).
Despite this blog post’s title, Tom and I are not eloping to Italy. We’re not the only ones who have been dreaming of our wedding day for our entire lives, and we’re cool with that – as long as our voices are the loudest. My mum is just as excited as we are and my brother is already choreographing his walk down the aisle. Just like dieting, the best part of the whole process happens at the end – when you say, “I do accept this massive slice of pizza.” The bits in between are for making memories and probably not for pushing over your relatives.