281. Just Picture It

"Oh, do you want to see my bouquet?"I asked, pulling Cayden to the dining room. We'd gone straight from the airport to my parents' house for dinner, and I couldn't wait to show him everything I had planned for the wedding. 

"Well, I don't really have a choice do I?" he said, amused by my excitement. The dining room table was covered with cardboard boxes. I pulled the delicate fabric bouquet out of its box and held it to my chest. 

"What do you think?" I'd ordered it on Etsy and had it custom made in my colors. Peach and gray silk fabric was twisted tightly into individual roses with a single pearl in the center of each. The "leaves" were made with fabric that had been stamped with words from a book. I was in love with it. 

"Wow, that's beautiful," he said. "It's so different."

"And here's the tossing bouquet. And here's your boutonniere," I said, pointing from box to box. "And here's the box of single-flower vases Lainie and I bought at a garage sale for $12. Oh! Now let me show you how it's all going to look!"

I pulled him through the kitchen where Mom and Dad were clearing the dessert plates, and out the back door. I could tell I was overwhelming him, but he was being a good sport about it. It was almost 9 pm, and the only light came from the porch light and the moon. 

I didn't stop yanking on his arm until we were in front of the tree next to the pool.

"Just picture it. This is where we'll stand," I said, with his hands in mine. "Marvin will stand right here." I gestured to the gap between us and the tree. "And balloons will float above the pool."

Cayden nodded and took a moment to picture it all. 

"And then everyone will sit right here," I turned toward the yard and the driveway beyond it. "Lights, beer pong, cupcakes, dancing."

"Well, it sounds like you're only missing one thing," Cayden said.

I frowned and ran through my planning list in my head. I had the bouquet, the officiator, the dress, the cupcake recipe, the balloons, the floating tealights. 

When I turned back to Cayden to ask him what I was missing he was down on one knee. 

"A ring," he said, holding the most beautiful sapphire and diamond ring toward me. I couldn't take my eyes away from the gem in his hand. 

"Whitney, will you marry me?"

Tears filled my eyes, blurring the sapphire and diamond sparkle together. 

"It's so beautiful," I said, reaching for it. 

He pulled it back and raised an eyebrow at me, teasing me with it until I answered. 

"Oh, of course! Yes, I'll marry you. Put it on me. Put it on me."

He stood up and slid the ring on my finger. I quietly cried against his shirt as he wrapped me in a tight hug. 

"Our wedding is going to be beautiful," he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

280. Now Boarding

I can picture my wedding in my head. The trees are wrapped in subtle twinkle lights. Big, white helium balloons of different sizes float above the pool at various heights, creating the backdrop to my "altar." Floating tealight candles drift lazily across the hot tub, nudging each other like gentle bumper cars. Cayden and I are standing there, facing each other, both of my hands in both of his while Marvin's booming voice entertains the crowd with the story of how he once offered to pay me $1,000 to marry his son. Everyone laughs and then they hold their drinks up as he pronounces us husband and wife. We kiss. They cheers. Then we break out the beer pong tables and lift the lids on the Chick-fil-A party trays. 

Now if that's not the fairytale wedding every little girl dreams of, I don't know what is. 

When it came to planning said dream wedding, I had no idea where to start. I already had the dress and the venue, and soon enough I'd have the groom. What more did I need? Oh, the officiant. 

I called Marvin and told him the good news.

"So, you know that British stud I introduced you to on Christmas? Turns out I'm going to marry that guy. Well, actually I was wondering if you would. Marry us, I mean."

I could see hear his smile through the phone. 

"Oh, Whitney! Congratulations!" he yelled. "I'd be honored. I bet your parents are just overjoyed. We'll work this out. I will be there."

He's going to sing, too. 

Now that I had all the key players in place, what was next? Was I supposed to pick colors or something? 

OK, peach and navy.

No, peach and sapphire. 

No, sapphire and gray. 

I loved the idea of incorporating sapphire into the wedding because it's the September birthstone and both Cayden and I have September birthdays, but I decided the color was too dark for a night time wedding. 

Peach and gray it is. Why peach and gray? Well, why the hell not. 

Now, what's next? Save the Dates? I called all of my close friends and family and told them to clear their calendars for June 16, there was a celebration to be had, many of whom responded with "Are you serious?" "Holy shit!" and "It's about time!" Technically, that counts as a Save the Date, right?

Oh, right, bridesmaids. I needed bridesmaids. I'd already told my sisters they'd be my maid and matron of honor, so for bridesmaids there was Rae and Carson and Joyce and Shanna. LeeAnn and Colbie and Dawn and Ann. Gayle and Nicole and Lea and... oh, fuck it. I didn't need bridesmaids. I had an amazing group of girlfriends and if I had them all stand next to me at the wedding, there would be no one left in the seats to watch us get married.

Mitch agreed to photograph my wedding and Chaz stepped up to take my engagement photos. There are definitely perks to working in a creative industry. I'm surrounded by incredibly talented photographers, graphic designers and creative thinkers. We aren't known for our math or scientific skill, but we sure as hell know how to make things look good. 

Speaking of talented creatives, my younger sister Meg designed my wedding invitations and they are by far the most beautiful invitations I've ever seen. I don't want to give too many details away just yet, but let's just say they may or may not look like airplane boarding passes complete with QR codes to RSVP online. We figured our relationship is dependent on boarding passes, so our wedding may as well be, too. 

In fact, Cayden will be scanning his boarding pass this Saturday for his final visit to Dallas before the big move in June. That's right, in less than 48 hours I get to pick my fiance up from the airport. My FIANCE! It sounds so weird. 

This Sunday we'll both be on a private jet with champagne flutes in hand. Where are we off to, you ask? Lala land. Rae's Dad just happens to be the president of a luxury jet service that operates out of Addison Airport, and he's letting us use a jet for our engagement photo shoot. How bad ass is that? 

I still have so much wedding stuff to tell you about but it's almost 1:30 am. I have to wake up in five and a half hours to go to work. I'll try to blog again before Cayden gets here, but I have a lot of cleaning, yogaing and engagement-photo-outfit shopping to do before then, so I can't make any promises. Sweet dreams :)

279. Dramatic Effect

"So, you know how we were going to do a JP wedding when you move here?" I asked Cayden. He tilted his head to the right and gave me a funny look. I couldn't tell if the screen froze that way or if he was being very still.

"You there?" I asked. I couldn't tell you how many times I'd told a full story to a frozen image of Cayden on the webcam thinking he was just being very still and unresponsive.

"I'm here," he said, finally moving again. "What do you mean were going to do a JP wedding?"

"Well, I was thinking..." I could sense Mom on the couch behind me straining to hear his reaction to our new little development. "How about we just have a wedding?"

At first he looked at me like I'd just asked him to belly dance with Papa Smurf. He looked at me like I was certifiably insane.

"Right here in the backyard. Just us, my family and our close friends. Mom even said they can help pay for Topher to get here if he can't afford a plane ticket."

The bewildered look morphed into an intrigued look.

"Hmm," Cayden said. "That actually does sound quite nice."

I could tell he was trying to picture it all in his head; where we'd stand, what he'd wear, who would be there.

"It actually sounds really nice," he said, nodding. I smiled and nodded along with him. I looked back at Mom perched on the couch and gave her a thumbs up. When I looked back, I watched his expression change as an idea came to mind.

"Wait. Does this mean we can have Chick-fil-A?"

It was settled. Cayden and I were getting married in my parents' backyard in the the dead of a Texas summer evening. And there would be Chick-fil-A. Despite the probable sweltering heat, it all sounded as close to perfect as it would ever get.

That was a month and a half ago. Quite a bit has happened since then. My first order of business was to figure out how in the hell I was going to fit my curves into that dress without backfat rolling over the top or my lungs collapsing. I had yet to find a workout routine I didn't avoid like the plague, and I refused to pay a personal trainer to bark at me while I cried on the treadmill hugging a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

Joyce had a membership at Sunstone Yoga that allowed her to bring a guest for free (they believe that having a workout partner increases your chances of sticking to it.) She'd asked me a number of times if I wanted to go with her, but there was something about the idea working out in a 100-degree room packed with sweaty bodies that made me want to throw up in my lap. But once my wedding date was set, my impending upchuck seemed less and less likely. "Fine. Let's go," I finally said as I let her drag me off the couch. At the end of the class, I sat in that 100-degree room and watched sweat pour down my face, chest and arms in my reflection. Every muscle fiber in my body shook with exhaustion, and I thought, "I can do this." And then I was hooked. I've been going to yoga five times a week for the past month and a half, and I love it. I look forward to it. I crave it.

I knew I needed to diet, too, but let's face it, healthy food made me sad. No amount of salad or grilled chicken could make me as happy as a plate of penne alla vodka and tiramisu could. And I hated cooking, so the majority of my meals came out of a box that said "just add water" or off a restaurant menu that conveniently lacked nutritional facts. If only there was a restaurant that served nothing but healthy meals, right? Oh, but there is. It's called My Fit Foods and it's every culinary-challenged, bride-to-be's dream come true. I started eating two meals a day from My Fit Foods, and in combination with my yoga routine, I'm down 11 pounds and the dress fits like it was made for me.

"This is absolutely beautiful," my seamstress, Martha, said as I twirled around in front of her wall-to-wall mirror earlier this week. "I wish more young ladies would think to wear their mom's dress. You wouldn't believe how many women come in here with dresses that cost thousands and thousands of dollars. But this," she said, turning me around to face my reflection, "this is worth so much more."

"I couldn't agree more," I said, beaming. "But can we do something about these?" I held my arms out and let the pouffy sleeves flap from side to side for dramatic effect.

"Yes, those could use some updating," she said, nodding. "We can do whatever you'd like. I want you to go home and look through bridal magazines or look at dresses online and bring me a picture of the sleeve you want. And then I'll recreate it. You must find what you love first."

The Great Sleeve Search of 2012 is currently underway. Please, please, please feel free to send me suggestions! (Post them on my Facebook page, tweet them to me, leave links in the comments below, email them to me... whatever works best for you!)

To see what else I have up my sleeve, follow my "Happily Ever After" board on Pinterest :)

278. Change of Scenery

"So, do you want Dad and me to be the witnesses at the wedding?" Mom asked later that day. "Or is there anyone else you were thinking about?"

I was torn. I definitely wanted my parents to be there, but I also wanted my close girlfriends to be a part of it. They were there for me through the hardest parts, inviting me on their date nights, ditching the guys for frequent girls' nights, listening to me bitch and moan through frustration of not having him here, and even wiping my tears when it all got to be too much. They were right there when I needed them. I wanted them there for the best part as well. 

"This will all be worth it one day," they'd always say to cheer me up, and then pour me another glass of wine. Well, one day was just around the corner, and it wouldn't be the same without them. 

"Yes, I want you and Dad there," I said to Mom. "But I think I want some close friends there, too. How many people am I allowed to bring with me?"

"Good question," Mom said with a shrug. 

"And LeeAnne! Do you think there's any way to fly LeeAnne in from St. Louis?"

When we were younger, LeeAnne and I made a pact that we'd be in each others' weddings. She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding last year, and it meant the world to me. Fortunately for her, she realized her Prince Charming wasn't all that charming and called off the wedding before she turned into a pumpkin. That's how the story goes, right?

She had yet to meet my Prince Charming. Of course, she'd heard all about him, and she'd begged me to let her come down and visit while he was in town, but I'd been selfish. When he came to visit, I only had so many days alone with him, and I cherished those days. If LeeAnn came to visit, I'd temporarily forget Cayden was there. My lifelong best friend and I had a lot of catching up to do. 

"Man, I wish we could just have a party in the backyard and call Marvin Matthews over to marry us," I said, staring out the window watching the wind blow ripples across the pool. 

Mom followed my gaze. We both sat there picturing it. Just a small gathering of my family and close friends. Me in my Mom's dress. Cayden in linen pants and a breezy white cotton shirt. Everyone in flip flops with beer in their hands. Everyone lifts their glasses and says "cheers" as we say 'I do.' And Marvin would sing. My eyes welled up with tears just thinking about Marvin singing as Cayden and I had our first dance and husband and wife. 

I caught my mom looking at me with a big smile on her face. 

"Let's do it," she said with a mischievous look.

"Huh?" I asked, blinking to absorb my tears and regain a sense of reality. 

"Well, why not? It's exactly what you want, right?" Her eyes lit up with the prospect of a new project. "Come here." I nearly had to chase her out the back door. 

"Just picture it," she said. "It will be sunset. We put the chairs here, and you and Cayden and Marvin will stand right here, under the tree by the pool."

"And we can wrap the trees in twinkle lights," I said. 

"And put floating tealights in the pool," Mom said. 

"And we can order Chick-fil-A!"

We both cracked up at the thought of it. The first time Cayden tried a Chick-fil-A chicken nugget he told me that's all he wanted at our wedding. He was dead serious. I called him crazy. But now it couldn't be more perfect. What Texas backyard wedding would be complete without a Chick-fil-A Party Tray?

"So, we're doing this?" I asked with hopeful eyes. 

"We're doing this," Mom said, nodding her head in excitement. 

"Holy shit," I said. "I'm getting married."

Now I just had to tell Cayden. 

277. Dressed

"So, have you given any thought to what you want to wear to the JP wedding?" Mom asked over lunch one day. It was January and Cayden had just flown back to London the week before. Knowing there was a wedding in our near future made it much easier to deal with his absence. At the time, we hadn't heard back on our petition just yet, so I hadn't given much thought to the logistics of the wedding.

"Actually, I have," I said, and tried to hide the smile that was spreading across my face. A brilliant idea had come to me in the car on the way to lunch and I couldn't wait to tell her. She and Dad raised an eyebrow at me rom across the table. 

"I was just thinking... you still have your dress somewhere, right? How cool would it be if I wore it for the JP wedding?"

It took her a moment to process it. And then I watched her face light up as my words sunk in. 

"Wait, you want to wear my dress?" she beamed. I beamed back at her. I couldn't make any promises that the dress would fit, but there was only one way to find out. 

"It's in the attic," Dad said with a smile. "I saw it when we were getting the Christmas decorations out."

"Can I try it on when we get home?"

I've never seen my mom finish a meal that fast. She joined me in my car and let Dad and Abuelo take her car for the drive home. 

"I don't know if it will fit," she said, sounding a little worried. "I don't even remember what size it is. I just assumed if it would fit anyone it would be Meg."

My mom is 5'2" and I'm 5'8". Noelle is 5'10, so she couldn't even consider Mom's dress when she got married four years ago. Meg is 5'3"but she wasn't even close to thinking about marriage. I knew the chances of it fitting me were slim, but something told me I had to try. 

We pulled the giant cream-colored box out of the attic and set it on Mom and Dad's bed. A thick layer of dust had collected on the box's surface. Mom and I peeled off the dark blue tape that had kept the lid in place for 28 years. For some reason it reminded me of that part in the movie Hocus Pocus where they cut the stitches on Billy Butcherson's mouth after he comes back from the dead. I half expected dust and 100-year-old morning breath to seep out of the opened lid.

I held my breath just in case as Mom pulled back a white sheet of tissue paper. A silky, beaded chest stared up at me. 

"It looks like a dead person," Mom said.

The dress was folded and stuffed in such a way that it looked like someone was wearing it. I brushed my fingers across the intricate beaded pattern decorating the ivory silk, and allowed myself to breathe again. I could have sworn I smelled a slight hint of the perfume my mom must have worn on her wedding day. 

"It's so pretty," I said. "I actually didn't even know what it was going to look like. I'd only seen it in a few pictures."

Mom lifted the dress out of the box delicately. The train seemed to go on forever. I pulled my shirt off over my head and kicked my jeans to the side before she'd finished pulling the whole train out. 

"Arms up," Mom said as she lifted the dress over my head. I ducked into it and felt the silk fall around me. Please fit. Please fit. Please fit. 

I looked down and saw that the bottom hem of the dress was just barely brushing the floor. We both squealed with excitement when we saw that my feet didn't show. It fit. As long as I didn't wear heels. I hated wearing heels, so at least this would give me an excuse to wear comfortable flats.

"Don't get too excited," I warned. "We thought the length was going to be our biggest problem, but now I'm thinking it might be the width. I fought to force the zipper up in the back. 

Mom took over and gave it a tug. I sucked in with all my might and forced myself to compact my upper torso into the dress. 

"Can I get a rib removed or something?" I asked. 

"There. It's zipped." I took tiny sips of air to breathe. I turned carefully to look at myself in the mirror. 

The bodice was beautiful. The length was just right. And if I shed a few pounds or shaved a few inches off my hip bones, I think I'd be able to breathe. This was it. This was my wedding dress.

"So, what do you think?" Mom asked with a hopeful expression. "You can alter it if you want. Or you don't have to wear it at all."

"Aside from these poofy sleeves, I'm in love," I said. "I'm wearing your dress for my wedding."

A huge smile spread across her face and I was almost sure I saw tears in her eyes. Or maybe those were tears in my eyes. 

My mom and my dad were in a long-distance relationship until the day she put on that dress walked down the aisle with her father and said 'I do" to the love of her life. It would only make sense for me to do the same.