A woman's journey from Ms. to Mrs. can be likened to Dr. Jekyll's transformation into Mr. Hyde. With every botched rehearsal, smudged invitation card or unflattering engagment picture, the monster inside is getting stronger, fighting to come out. And then you say something silly like, 'What's the difference?' when referring to matte or glossy seating cards. Enter bridezilla. it's over buddy. That's the last you'll ever see of that sweet girl you asked to spend the rest of your life with.
What's the big fkng deal with weddings anyways? You don't know half the people there. Who cares about the subtle difference between cream colored and ecru? Who will remember rose centerpieces over lillies? Who gives a damn in hell that Aunt Judith is in a fight with her brother in law's cousin and they can't be seated at the same table?
She will scream, she will cry, and almost too often she will bite. Anything to get princess what she wants. Hang in there buddy, its going to be a long ride.
Weddings turn them crazy. That's the problem with women.
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