Sunday, June 7, 2009

Ok, ok...

I read what I just wrote.
I sound like a spoiled brat.
It's not the dress. 
Or the flowers. Or the venue. Or the cake. Or anything else.

I'm marrying the man I love,
who loves me,
and, although he would be surprised, I can guarantee he would think I look beautiful if I walked down the aisle in sweat pants.
(Aaron, if you're reading this, I promise I won't.)

I Promise I Will Not Make Little Things In To Big Things and I Promise To Be Thankful For What Matters, and Not Think About What Does Not. 
{Upstyle is a big deal, folks. Call me out of I don't honor my promise.}

*SIDENOTE*
I just got a text from A. 
It said this: "Whoooooo are you? Who who...who who?"
Sometimes I think God speaks to me through text messages. Why did, at this very moment, Aaron send me lyrics of a song I've never heard him singing? And why are these lyrics what they are---'who are you'? Who am I? I am not my dress, or any other material "thing." I am way fortunate, and should be way thankful, that's who I am. So help me God.

3 comments:

Chelsea said...

whooa woman lol. i believe the lyrics of any Who song can calm the troubled soul haha the irony that the band was probably all on drugs.

So watch the mailbox. : )
And I would love to see this dress if you would honor me with its pictures

Emily Anderson said...

Yes, I'll e-mail it to you. I don't want to post pictures (at least not yet) :) How's move-in?

Chelsea said...

move in went well haha. I'm still surrounded by boxes though and not quite finished painting. ill post pics on my blog when im done though so check it out~