Bridezilla Disease

As some of you may know, I am doomed to become betrothed to a kiwi in just over a week's time. A very exciting time, there's no denying it! Now, I always thought I would be a cruisy bride. I always thought Bridezilla Disease was something you were born with. Something reserved for women who don't even realise there is a man somehow involved in the whole charade. I'm here to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that it is not something you are born with, no. It turns out Bridezilla's Disease is something that's given to you by a series of events beyond your control. In fact, Bridezilla's Disease hones in on the areas which are most likely to contradict things you have previously said about being a 'cruisy' bride. Allow me to elaborate, and break down my own BD into a series of events that further demonstrate the scientific proof of the discovery I am putting forth.

Statement 1: 'I'm not too fussed with all that glamourpuss stuff, as long as my man is there, I am there, and the celebrant is there, then the day will be perfect.'
BD says, 'Really? Truly? You don't care? Okay then fucker, try this on for size. Chicken Pox. Suck that up bitch. Still cool with being an ugly bride now?'
BD finds me sobbing in bed, moaning about how I'm going to be an ugly, pock marked bride. It pushes me to question whether my future husband has started packing his bag, not for our trip to Vanuatu, but to go out for milk and never come back. And just when I think I am beating the disease with buckets of Bio Oil and an attitude adjustment, it makes me uncontagious and sends me out into the public. As I open my heart prepared for the sympathetic cuddles and love, I am faced with laughter. At me, not with me. 'What a funny thing to happen two weeks before your wedding! Ha ha ha ha!' HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I'm not fucking laughing. No, no the BD builds up behind my eyes and I glare like I'm about to tear long strips of flesh off everybody. Where is the Sarah that would have been laughing along with everybody? Overtaken by a viscious disease that grips you when you least expect it. The dreaded BD.

Statement 2: 'Hey babe, why don't we go for the room with the spa? We only get married once, lets spoil ourselves! I mean, yes, it will cost us $2900, but it's a once in a lifetime event. Lets go hard!'
BD's ears prick up. Spare no expense, you say? You don't mind paying through the nose for the time of your life? Oh YEAH? Try this then! BD has the resort calling me to tell me I owe them not $2900, but $4000 for our room. And if I don't pay up, I can take my wedding elsewhere. In the worst case of BD that I have suffered yet, I find myself on the phone to a woman in Vanuatu who owns half of Port Vila, telling her if she makes me pay the new quote I WILL take my wedding elsewhere, AND all my guests, and she will be the one losing money! I rant hysterically at her for half an hour, then phone my mother and rant at her about it for half an hour. Luckily my mother could smell the BD from across the ocean, and quickly rang the resort herself and put out the fire. Still want to kick that resort lady in the taco, and am still going to take a big dump on her doorstep after a few wines.

So you see, Bridezilla Disease is a nasty bugger, it goes straight for the goolies. However, my belief is that if you just surrender to BD, just let it win a few times, then it will be satisfied. It will step back, throw it's hands up, and say 'Enjoy your big day. I will no longer interfere.' I hear many stories of weddings that were an absolute disaster leading up to the big day, and then the wedding ran perfectly. I also reflect on one of my half sister's weddings. There were no problems at all leading up to the day. Everything was sorted, everyone was getting along, everything came through perfect. We all sat in a lovely big church, and watched as she walked down the aisle looking beautiful. Watched as her and her husband held hands ready to commit their lives to each other. Dropped our jaws in shock, as a skinny stoner in a Safeway uniform walked past the window, pushing a line of what must have been thirty trolleys right in the middle of the vows. Over rough concrete. Could a bout of BD in the lead up to the wedding have stopped this? The question remains........