8 Placesettings of Prozac, hold the Silicone

In true male fashion, with a mere five days passed since M. and I completed our online and in-store registering, I have already started to compare.

As in, looking up every person I can think of who has gotten or is getting married within a three-year radius, and seeing what they chose from Crate & Barrel.

This can get ugly, leaving me to heartlessly question other brides' tastes in glassware and gadgets.

Mainly, though, it has exposed me as the insecure and vulnerable and impressionable wreck that I am. For instance, why is everyone ordering the Madison Wine Tower but me? Why didn't I think of ordering the Set of 12 Packaged White Square Plates? How come my place settings cost thirty dollars less than hers?

Will my meals be thirty dollars less enjoyable? What will my 12 guests eat their hors d'ouevres off of? Will my lone wine bottle be left to continue to inhabit its sad and pathetic residence next to the microwave oven?

More to the point, why do I no longer have online access to the Red Orka Silicone Oven Mitt or the Rectangular Wine & Dines? How foolhardy was I to completely ignore my obvious need for both a Brown Swing Organizer and a Batter Bowl With Handle until it was too late? What kind of bride will I be when I can't even get my shit together enough to see the perfectly visible holes in my own household? How can I possibly expect to raise children, let alone plan a wedding or keep my husband happy, when they will quite inevitably be sloughing through the streets wearing ill-advised loafpans on their feet and impulsively-chosen Melamine mixing bowls on their heads?

I am a failure, an underdeveloped and illiterate and colorblind brideling, watching the other girls as they glide proudly through the locker room, nude atop their Madison Wine Towers, while I cower meekly in the corner getting changed behind my Upright Bag Holder.

In other news -- and really, doesn't all my anxiety probably stem from this more than from a silly old (desperately coveted) Batter Bowl with Handle? -- I placed an ad on Craigslist for a DJ and now have the onerous weekend task of sorting through email replies from at least 90 percent of the available and existing DJs in the greater New England area, right after I translate* and/or vomit on** them.

Not to mention trying to figure out what type of Godforsaken, second-rate, finger-burning, cotton-based oven mitt I'm going to have to settle for until this unfortunate and ill-timed Red Orka Silicone embargo is lifted.


*Slide A: "I am a DJ for 10 years I have club and wedding background I am interested in speaking with you I can set a appointment too speak with you."

**Slide B: "My husband is a fabulous DJ..."