Wedding Stress…It’s Got Me

At some point of being engaged and planning a wedding brides will develop a pain.

And no it’s not your husband to be playing games constantly, nodding to every wedding related question.

Let me describe it for you,

You can’t sleep as you just realised there is exactly 5 months and 30 days till your wedding.

So you lie there thinking, going hmmm okay great…yep…oh hell no..nope…just no. 

You then make a littleish list in your mind of what needs to be done, you then pass out from exhaustion as its 4am.

Wake up feeling fresh as a daisy, then bam this weird throbbing pain starts attacking your head.  Your head is still processing wedding thoughts, your chest feels tight and you can’t breath as anxiety hits you, then stress follows shortly afterwards.

Next thing your sensitive to lights and sounds and you feel sick at the sight of the food. You panic you don’t have enough time.

Trust me you have enough time. 

Welcome migraine. Please do attack my head violently, put me to bed and dose me up on painkillers.

So as I’m writing this today I am currently in bed, taking it slow, just about able to cope with light and decided to sort out my diary and write a to do list.

I have no reason to stress as everything is under control, but yet my mind thinks otherwise.

Maybe this is why there are wedding planners!

And one, two three, and out one, two, three. 

Oh hi there Cinders!

Oh hi there Cinders!


The Day After The Night Before!

Hopefully I’m not the only one who has been here in this situation. It’s awkward, not quite sure what to do? Who to turn to? The embarrassment sets in.

Of course I’m on about  when you wear brand new shoes and they shred your feet!

On Friday I went to a family wedding reception and decided to wear flats as in my words ” they won’t hurt my feet and I can walk like an angel in them”. I put on my new dress (which I forgot to take a picture of), checked myself out in the mirror, decided I look pretty damn hot, kind of gave myself a nice high five, flicked my hair and walked out the door.

Two hours in and my feet felt like they were on fire. Generally thought someone had come along and set them alight, either that or I put so much fake tan on, my feet just automatically set on fire from being too orange.

At this point I wasn’t sure if I would last the night, or whether someone would have to carry me. And before you say awh you have a nice loving partner to carry you. No no! No I didn’t he was too wasted to put a sentence together let alone walk.

The end of the night finally approached, I let out a slight sigh of relief like phew I made it! I did it. I lasted a whole night of brand new shoes. I still look good and now it’s time to go home. Stumbled into a taxi. As you do, and the relief I felt when I took off those shoes was like someone had just gave me 32 bars of kinder chocolate ( I know I’m not alone on that one).

Woke up the next morning, and my feet were so sore. Felt like I spent a month in the blazing hot sun. My poor feet were cut and blistered!  I’m walking around the house, feeling sorry for myself, debating whether I could go out in slippers or whether that’s borderline crazy. And to make matters worse, I had no plasters! None! So I had to result in wearing kids plasters. So everyone here is my kids monkey patterned plaster on my poor foot!

Sorry for those who don't like feet!

Sorry for those who don’t like feet!

Cool right? 

Lesson learnt not to buy £5 shoes from Primark. Ha who I am kidding? of course I haven’t learnt my lesson, I’ll still go buy cheap shoes and play this little scene over and over again, because that’s what girls do…I think.