New developments! I have them. Witness what’s transpired in the last few days:

  1. My face has bloomed an awesome new connect-the-dots pattern.*
  2. I have valiantly battled Getting Sick. I pulled out all my best moves, like sleeping and vitamins. And yet, even after a long holiday weekend, Getting Sick is finally winning. Bah!
  3. My pharmacy failed to inform me — even though I asked how many refills I had left the last time I went in — that a key prescription was expiring. Thanks, pharmacy! I love you, too. I especially appreciate that afternoon spent feeling like I was going to chuck my lunch from the stress of OH MY GOD I NEED MY PRESCRIPTION IT IS RIGHT THERE BEHIND THE COUNTER BUT YOU WON’T GIVE IT TO ME I HATE EVERYTHING.
  4. Forget Santa Cruz; I’m the new Mystery Spot!** The cornea of my right eye developed localized redness. It doesn’t hurt, but Visine didn’t clear it up. I switched from contacts to wearing glasses, which is not easy on the ol’ self esteem — despite the hip frames I still associate glasses with being called a nerd in 5th grade, SORRY — and I’m dousing my eye with saline solution a few times a day. And keeping my fingers crossed. So far it hasn’t gone away. Hooray!
  5. I am bloated. ‘Nuff said.
  6. The weather. It sucks. The fog burns off late, and rolls back in early. This is so not September weather here.

I don’t know, man. I am reluctant to admit that this stuff is bothering me, but… it is. The acne, bloating, and red-eye is a blow to my vanity. The other stuff — well, all of it, really — is a blow to my emotional system, which is not really holding up very nicely of late. No, I’m not freaking out. This isn’t a panic-panic-run-around-screaming post. I am just weary. I am trying. Trying to take care of myself; trying to stay on top of this neverending wedding to-do list. I have to rest, but I can’t rest. In this game of inches, I am walking a thin line between a rock and a hard place while trying to keep all my balls*** in the air. Yes! I am a mixed metaphor lover’s wet dream.

I know there should be a moral to this story, and I know it should go like this: “What does it matter if I have red-eye on my wedding day? I will still be married.” This is an astute observation. I will indeed be married on my wedding day, regardless of whether my face resembles a road atlas, or whether I’m retaining water, or whether the sun is obliterated by low-lying clouds. But I don’t particularly want any of those things to happen. In fact, I am beginning to get the impression that if any of these things do happen — if, for example, my right eye still looks like I spent the afternoon hotboxing a ’71 Chevelle — I am going to feel dangerously close to throwing a fit due to the unfairness of it all. I tried to take care of myself, you guys! I tried! So hard! Shouldn’t I get an A for effort? Shouldn’t I get a one-day pass for all health-, beauty-, and weather-related items? SHOULDN’T I????

Ahem. Wow. Bridal stereotype much?

All is not lost. There are still 11 days until the wedding. It’s entirely feasible that my ailments, real or imagined, will be cleared up by then. Then again, maybe not. I have to be prepared for that possibility. I thought I was prepared, but I guess I wasn’t.

The point of all of this, friends, is that the wedding zen. It eludes me. I’m sorry. I don’t have it. I can’t find it. I am not freaking out, but I am not zen-tastic. I am just here. A little worse for wear, but still breathing. And maybe that’s good enough?

It better be.

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* I see a pony! Or maybe a deformed marshmallow!

** For those of you who do not live in this strange bubble called California, I present to you, The Mystery Spot.

*** YOU GUYS I SAID BALLS!!!!!!11!