The reality of planning your own wedding

As mentioned in yesterday’s post, Blaine and I got married last weekend. We held our reception on my family’s farm, which is something I have known I wanted to do since I was a little girl. Our farm, and agriculture in general, has tremendous significance to me, so it meant the world that my dreams were made true, thanks to my dad and our migrant workers, and that I married my best friend on the farm.

The day was an absolute fucking blast, from start to finish.

While the day itself was everything Blaine and I could have fathomed and more, I’ll be honest in admitting that the work and preparation required to pull this shit off was absolute madness. Looking back, I’m really not sure how we managed to do it because it was such a vast task, but I owe my parents, my sister, our migrant workers, my husband, and our wedding party utmost thanks for assisting us in getting everything ready to go.

When Blaine and I were first engaged, I was told getting a wedding planner would be a smart idea, and while I agreed, I couldn’t justify spending oodles of money on a stranger to plan my wedding. So, upon chatting with my family and my sister, who quickly took on the role of our wedding planner, we decided to give it our all and pray for the best.

Thankfully, God was listening, because we fucking did it, and we did it real good.

Was the work required ridiculous? Yes, without a doubt. Was it worth it? In the days leading up to the wedding, I would have said no, because I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to having a full-out mental breakdown. But, now that Blaine and I are married, I can say with complete sincerity that the work was, without any doubt, worth it.

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