Trying (and failing) to plan my wedding

I’m screening my mother’s calls because she’s a complete bridezilla — and it’s my wedding!

I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I haven’t answered my mum’s calls for about a week.

In that time, I’ve gotten about fifteen angry emails from her, reminding me about various appointments that need to be set up before the wedding can happen in god knows how long. I am so stressed I’ve blocked it from memory.

I don’t think my anxiety has anything to do with what brides–to–be are normally concerned about in these circumstances. I am not worried the florist will mistakenly use red roses instead of white ones (horror of horrors); I am not worried about dress malfunctions (in fact, I’m thinking of asking my boyfriend to flash everyone right on stage, while I make a quick exit); I’m not even worried the caterers will forget to wash their hands and give everyone e.coli (pretty picture).

No, the only thing I care about is that there are going to be over a thousand people there, by latest estimation. What the fuck? How do we even know this many people? They’re certainly not my friends — I have about six of those because people terrify me. Søren has assured me that he’s not to blame, either.

Which leaves only one suspect: my mother. And she promised to keep this wedding small and intimate. Needless to say, I have no wish to get intimate with over a thousand people on the same night. I can barely handle one as it is.

If she keeps going at this rate, I’m going to be forced to change my name, deactivate my email account, and move to a different country.  She’s going to have to make a lot of phone calls when she finds out and has to inform everyone the wedding’s off.

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