I am one tough biatch

It's been in the works for months now. The long awaited wedding of two very sweet people.
The big day finally came yesterday!
Hubby stood up as best man.

This was one of the factors that I really had to consider when I had made my decision to quit smoking. I would really have liked a little more distance between quitting smoking and facing this stressful social situation that I knew was looming in the future. I know my Hubby. I knew he would spend the majority of the reception standing out in the parking lot chain smoking, and when he would be in doors, he would be doing Wedding Party stuff. And me, no longer being a smoker would be left inside in a room full of people that I really don't know, standing alone looking snobby. I can't help it. I make friends slowly. I can't just jump into a room full of strangers and be best pals by night's end. That's just not me. I end up trying way too hard to come up with interesting conversation topics and focusing on asking open ended questions to that I would get more than a yes or no response. Eek! Stress!

Luckily, the Bride has a really wonderful family. One of her many brothers and his wife came and sat at my and Jerry's table during the dinner portion of the reception and had both Jerry and me in stitches.

But back to the point of it all. As I was getting ready for the wedding I was suddenly over come with the Mother-of-All Cigarette cravings. I'm having an internal melt down because the night before, I thought "Okay, we need to leave at noon. That means I need to be in the shower by 10AM so that Hubby can have at least an hour in the bathroom to get ready before we go and so that my hair will dry properly and not look like total shit. Well, guess what. At 9:55, Hubby gets up, grabs his clothes and heads to the shower. And proceeds to hog the bathroom for the next hour! The neighbour kids decide to come over and play in the living room, and I'm just feeling the stress mounting. So I get in the shower, get out and try blow drying my hair. I NEVER blow dry my hair. I despise hair driers. Plus, they blow our electrical circuits if you use them on high. And what good is a hair drier used on low? So, yes, the hair is looking like crap no matter how much product I squirt onto it. And I'm looking in the mirror thinking that I really hate the clothes I bought for the wedding, which is naturally followed by "Dang, woman! You are so Fing FAT!" (My saying to myself, of course). So next thing I know, I'm up stairs digging in my closets for something - anything to make the wardrobe work. And I run back down, shoo Hubby out of the bathroom again (Sheesh! Quit primping, ya Nancy!) and that slow nag of a nicotine fit starts growing into a full-out fiend. I told myself "Give it three minutes and it will pass." Um, no. After three minutes, the feeling only grew even stronger. Another three passed and I was taking deep breaths. And in the mean time, Jerry is playing loudly with his friends in the living room, Hubby is cussing because he's popped a button on his suit jacket, and although the wardrobe is coming together, my hair looks like absolute crap no matter how I try to style it.

Hubby comes into the bathroom once his Button Crisis is amended and says "What's that look for?" Ooh! It was THAT noticeable! I told him I was really wishing we had some Orange Juice in the house because that is supposed to thwart cravings to smoke and I was having a major fit at that moment.

Hubby went out and jumped in the van and ran to the nearest gas station and came back with not one but two bottles of Orange Juice for me. How sweet and supportive! Major kudos go to that man! And amazingly, the orange juice really did help to curb it a bit. It didn't leave entirely, but it did take the edge off.

My hair still looked like crap. I still sat alone in the church. I still ended up standing alone looking dopey several times at the reception. But I faced all of that stress and I made it through smoke-free. Not bad for it still being less than two weeks of being a non-smoker. Go Me!