Today is the bachelorette party. My maid of honor, who I have renamed the “Chief Wonderful Woman,” or “Chief” for short, has planned an amazing day for me at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden and then dinner in New York City.
Instead of traipsing through the gardens in the middle of the most poetic borough (home to the Brooklyn Book Festival), I am lying in my childhood twin bed blogging. I am trying to avoid getting sick. My body feels like a stone; I am exhausted from so many things, as you might be able to guess.
The Chief, Mother of the Bride and I decided to cut the day short and start with dinner, which sounds great. I feel terribly guilty for not being in tip-top shape, but I’d hate to get anyone sick at the shower tomorrow. How could I let myself get sick and infect my favorite (female) loved ones?
The Chief worked closely with me to plan the bachelorette festivities, which I really appreciated. I had strict rules about what not to include (strippers, penis straws, etc.) Otherwise, it was mostly up to her. She worked closely with some of the local bridesmaids (who I call the “Wonderful Women”) and it sounds like a beautiful evening! I can’t wait.
For tonight’s festivities, we decided to invite very close female friends who are local to NYC. I think the very hardest part of the wedding planning has been the various invite lists. As a shy one, it is important to me to have small, intimate groups. Even so, I love many people from different parts of my life for different reasons.
It was hard for me, who is not only shy, but also a feminist, to decide to limit the invite list to only women. I have male friends who I care about and my fiancé had a co-ed bachelor party, which I didn’t mind (especially since it also didn’t include strippers or … I don’t even want to guess that else it could have had…)
Maybe this shy feminist is slightly more traditional than she realized. It sounds special to gather together as women and celebrate this new step in my life. Planning the wedding, almost like studying abroad and encountering a new culture, has helped me to consider parts of myself that I hadn’t necessarily thought carefully about before.
So here I am, waiting in bed until the evening. As the Italians say, I’ll be “brava.”