We’re getting close now. Eight weeks. Two months. Yikes.
The invitations are out, the florist is set. It’s down to the details now — those last nine pounds I want to lose, those dance lessons we haven’t taken, the veil I haven’t made and those shoes I want to buy.
I’m thinking gold gladiators for the reception, cobalt blue wedges for the ceremony. I wore the blue shoes to a wedding this past weekend. I paired a floor-length black gown with the 5-inch heels that I specifically bought so I wouldn’t have to get my dress hemmed. The look? Long and lean.
The truth is, I have lost about 20 pounds since getting engaged. I looked so dumpy in my engagement photos! And the weight I gained was fairly recent — the convergence of college, my first desk job, a boyfriend with bad habits and medication I have since ditched.
Losing that weight has been just another step toward the person I have wanted to be — I feel that way more and more. You know how they say in the movies, “You’ve arrived!” and hand the heroine a flute of Champagne? Well, I feel that way, even if my “arrived” is a newsroom, a house in South Jersey and a wonderful man in wrinkled shirts. It feels good.
And, you know what? Hearing how gorgeous I looked Sunday evening felt really good.
My sister arrived home from Israel this past week, and she said she didn’t know if she should say something about my weight. Maybe I’m embarrassed, she said. Heck, no! I’ve worked so hard to change my life; recognition is validation. I did it!!
So, yeah, I’m thinking I’m going to wear those shoes as my “something blue” to the ceremony. I’ll be 5-feet 7-inches to Joel’s 6 feet. Not bad. For the reception, something much more practical. I plan to dance and dance and dance. You (hopefully) only get married once!
This past weekend, my friend Jeremy got married at One Atlantic in The Pier Shops at Caesars in Atlantic City.
It is such a good, full feeling to see your friend happy. I smiled all night.
“You’re so happy,” Joel kept saying. “Jeremy’s getting married,” I kept replying.
What more could I want?
Under the chuppah, Jeremy looked so purposeful standing next to his bride. The chapel at One Atlantic is mostly windows and the ceremony was at that pink, fuzzy dusk of summer. The chuppah was a white, semitransparent, flowy material. In contrast, the couple were so still. They just looked so great together.
Jeremy and Shiran are almost the same height, which first made me think maybe I should wear those shoes again.
After Jeremy put the ring on Shiran’s finger, he bounced on his heels a little he was so happy.
The venue One Atlantic was an upscale alternative to the beach. Jeremy and his-then-bride-to-be came down the shore in January to check out locations. Afterward, they stopped by our house.
“We want to get married on the beach,” Jeremy said.
Joel and I laughed and laughed — there was no way. The groom and I have been friends forever because our parents have been friends forever. Our mothers may be very different people, but still: There was just no way.
So, six months later, we found ourselves riding up a very exclusive escalator — there was a guest list! — to a space with 300-degree views of the ocean. Many of the walls are full-length windows. You feel like you’re on a luxury cruise ship gliding through all that blue. Between the sky and the water, I was in heaven.
There are a few spaces for a bride to work with: The main room, chapel, ballroom, annex and deck. The main is filled with very minimalist furniture. White brick, mod couches and a sleek bar — lots of metal, very little color. Waiters circled with hors d’oeuvres and there was a station of fresh vegetables and dip. My cosmo was delicious.
The deck was perhaps my favorite. A small wedding ceremony could be held there, overlooking the beach. You could time it for sunset; it would be so stunning.
But even better, perhaps, was the day before the wedding. We all hung out the Saturday before the wedding. First, we went to the family’s synagogue at the shore: Rodef Shalom in Ventnor was overrun. Jeremy’s parents, siblings, nephews, nieces, uncles, aunts and cousins abounded. It created the best kind of chaos — the kind of chaos a happy family exudes as surely as each individual blinks.
If you’ve ever been around a big family, you know.
We went to synagogue, followed by beach.
It was such a good weekend.
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