T-minus 8 and counting.

While I wouldn't say that I woke up on the morning of my wedding hungover, I would say that I was incredibly nervous and skittsh for the entirety of the day, making me look like something of a -- how shall we say? -- crack addict.

I woke up at 7 and couldn't get back to sleep, which worked out okay, I guess, because Bridesmaid Jenn was already awake and had already wandered into a local Starbucks. She then called me at 7:30 and instructed that we "stop having sex" and tell her what kind of coffee we wanted.

She came back to our room around 8 with coffee and fruit. I ate this coffee and fruit . . . and then I threw up in the toilet. Note to self: coffee is not a good chaser to a night of drinking wine and gin.

We met the family and the rest of the bridal party for hotel brunch at about 9/9:30ish and proceeded to pick at fruit. Note to all: I cannot eat when nervous. At speech tournaments in high school, I could never eat until after my first competition.

I go to my room and rest for awhile until I get a call from the florist at 11 a.m., asking if she can drop off flowers around noon. Bridesmaid luncheon is put on hold until the florist delivers incredibly gorgeous bouquets and boutonnieres to my room.

I had picked this florist off the internet, had never met with her and only exchanged phone calls and emails . . . and this was the result. Magfreakinificent!

My bouquet.

His boutonniere.

Bridesmaids and Bride's Mom joined me for lunch at Cheesecake Factory. We all went shopping in the Handbag Basement while waiting for our table. Despite touching beautiful purses for a half an hour, I still can't eat once we get to Cheesecake Factory. Pasta sits on my plate. Magen gives me Xanax.

I love Xanax.

By the time of our 3 p.m. hair appointment, my world is looking up. I do not appear like as much of a crackhead, and as my hair transforms itself in Angela's capable hands, I am becoming a very pretty crackhead as each minute passes.

We are out of the salon a little before 5 and are suddenly superbly glamorous. Here's what our hair looked like:





Kate took the pictures of Magen and I, but I didn't have any of her hair prior to the wedding. So here's her entire look, courtesy of Gabe, our photographer. (You can see her flowers, too!)



(Cassie and Jenn, being short haired, napped at the hotel during this time. Or hit the bar. I'm not sure which.)

We shielded ourselves from the wind before returning to the hotel to complete the movie-starlet transformation.

Randi helped me decide which underwear I should wear.



Yep, those cotton boy shorts were totally the winners.

The getting ready bit is all really a blur to me after that crucial decision was made. Jenn did our makeup, Randi, the unofficial bridesmaid, helped zip things and adjust things and lend moral support to Kate, the Best Kate. Cassie and Magen shooed my mom away when I was about to kill her. I think I ate two slices of rye bread . . .

Then at just past six we were spirited away to the ballroom by our less-than-stellar wedding planner . . .