I started having emotional breakdowns about a month into wedding planning. Sweaty palms, heart racing, knees weak, teary eyes, total immobilization. I would find myself staring at a web page filled with tiki torches or green bridesmaid dresses or centerpiece ideas, and I would just stop dead in my wedding tracks.
It became the worst when Patrick would ask me for ideas or advice. Two questions in a row about the wedding and I’d be a shaky, sweaty mess. All of a sudden, my mind was deluged with worst-case scenarios and paralyzing fear of judgment from others. How do you plan a party everyone has already been to before, but also make it the paragon of amazing loveness that super-embodies the perfect lovey-face of your wonderful and unique relationship?
Moreover, will our venue let us put party lights up and what if we don’t have party lights and we trigger Armageddon right then and there?!
Wedding planning is the worst. Keep reading »
Last month, my boyfriend Patrick and I drank a bottle of Jim Beam at the lake and decided to get married. When we peeled our faces off a sticky, half-deflated air mattress the next morning, we asked ourselves two questions: first, did we still want to get married, and second, how about some Taco Bell? Yes to both, thank you.
Eventually the time came for parental phone calls, and mine were excited and curious: where would our wedding be? When? Several minutes into the call, I heard my mom muse, almost absent-mindedly, “Andrea Hislastname ….” She didn’t ask if I would be changing my last name; she simply said what she believed my new name would be, just to see how it rolled off her tongue.
Patrick’s family did ask about changing my name, at least. And I told them: no, I’m not changing my name. For that matter, neither is Patrick. Of course, most folks would never think to ask if a guy might change his name upon marriage. It’s just not done in this country — and once I learned why, I became more sure than ever that I would never be anyone but Andrea Grimes. Keep reading »
A former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader has founded a website called BreastaurantUniforms.com, where restaurateurs can get help turning “any restaurant into a breastaurant!”
There are a number of reasons I am not excited about making the world a more receptive place for breastaurants. Keep reading »
What makes me most angry about the reprehensible, privilege-denying behavior of Michael Moore, Keith Olbermann and their allies in the whole Julian Assange-can’t-be-a-rapist-because-he’s-a-freedom-fighter ordeal, addressed beautifully by Sady Doyle and a number of brilliant feminists in the form of the #MooreAndMe Twitter hashtag? The fact that, in the likely event I am ever a victim of completed or attempted sexual assault, powerful men (and women!) of liberal privilege may not — indeed, very likely may not — take me seriously. Keep reading »