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