Holy Matrimony via the Internet

A little while ago I broke down. I gave in. I did what I said I would never do. I got sucked into pinterest. I know, I know. There are no excuses. But I can’t help it! I swear!

Basically, I have found something that wastes more time than Battle Star Galactica. And I watched all all four seasons in what feels like two weeks.

Anywho, back to pinterest. There are a bunch of categories to choose from when debating what to spend hours on. Usually, I scroll through the geek tab or the tattoo tab, but lately I’ve had a new addiction-the wedding tab.

*gasp* Ashlyn looking at wedding stuff? Yes I’m 17. No, I don’t want to get married right now. But eventually? Yeah. I do. This is why pinterest is a problem. I could spend hours daydreaming about that day. It’s the thought of
planning the whole ordeal. I’m a planner. Or, possibly just a schemer. I like thinking. So when I’m sitting here, scrolling through dresses and gifts and photographs, I’m planning. I’m thinking of all the different combinations.

The stereotype that girls spend their childhoods thinking about their wedding day is false. Some play with trucks. Others read harry potter religiously. I sort of missed the memo and am just now catching on.

I want the dress. A gorgeous, wonderful dress. No veil-they’re dumb. And flats because I’m clumsy and you won’t see them anyways. A cool yet cliche wedding band, one that you would see in movies like time traveler’s wife. But it isn’t the dresses, the great food or the decorations that I get excited about. No. It’s the party afterwards. My family is Italian. They like their wine and they know how to party. We rent a hall and dance the night away. The women spend all day cooking (unless someone is catering) and they make enough to feed about a million and two people. After the ceremony we dance and dance and dance. That is the best part. We come together to celebrate and we do it right.

I want to look back at that night and remember the dancing. Being surrounded by people I love, being goofy.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do care about the dress and the crappy decorations-i’ll keep dreaming. But in the long run, I’ll be running through potential playlists.

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