There's a girl I know from high school getting married the day after me in the same church. Her mom had called my mom today trying to get our schedule for friday so they'd be able to set up their rehersal. I didn't even think twice about it until D mentioned this afternoon how it was kind of snotty, since you certainly wouldn't track down a stranger to get their information. I decided to be nice and call her to let her know our plans, but the bride wasn't home. I ended up talking to the mother, who I've sorta known for a long time. By the time I got off the phone, I was shaking with rage and couldn't believe she was being that terrible.
She is very put-out by the fact that I'm getting married at all that weekend, because they reserved the saturday back in June. Our measly September is not up to her standards. She seems to feel reserving that saturday should give her free rein for the whole weekend, and that we're being very rude by scheduling something during *her* weekend. When I calmly told her she could do her rehersal before 3 or after 7, she fought with me for ten minutes on why that simply wasn't possible and how I was making things very difficult for her. Eventually, I called her by her first name and simply stated that was our schedule and she would have to compromise with us since I didn't like fighting over it, she launched into the condescending teacher/mom voice and told me that no one is fighting here and made me feel like I was the one freaking out. She tried pushing the "we have family coming all the way in from chicago" method, so I got to tell her the GROOM was from chicago and we have california, texas, new jersey, and florida to name a few. And so here, although it's not a very christian thing to say while fighting over a church, I wish to say to her "Fuck off, psycho bitch. Quit living through your daughter."
I feel like I'm supported by this little bodyguard circle of Austin and D and family from the whole wedding tsunami. I'm actally having a lot of fun with it so far, but every once in a while I stick my toe out past the barrier and something whooshes me away. Now I can't sleep since I keep mulling over the conversation, and insomnia is NEVER a problem when you usually only get six hours of sleep.
Posted by Janine at March 06, 2003 10:31 PM