Wedding Fever

My job is turning my into one of those women men are terrified of.

The type of woman who meets a guy and WANTSTOGETMARRIEDANDSETTLEDOWNRIGHTAWAY. I mean, I’m not actually that girl. (I swear.) Sure, I want to get married, but I’m not to the point of desperation where I want to tie down the next Y chromosome I see. What I’m trying to say is, no rush, right?

So how come every time I go to I feel this almost uncontrollable urge to start picking out bridesmaids’ dresses? Maybe because everything on there is so gosh darn adorable.

For example, I’ve already decided on my wedding colors, my reception centerpieces, even invitations (but in green instead of yellow).

I love these centerpieces. I want these engagement photos. And I’m having a photobooth instead of a standard sign-in book. Plus, these.

Basically, I’m a freak. I mean, I’m not booking my honeymoon just yet, but, whoa girl. Find a boyfriend, then we’ll talk.

For now, I’m just going to categorize this factor of my freakishness under “occupational hazard.”