Who were you on your wedding day?

I was hopelessly naive. Not about the wedding night or catering costs or anything. No surprises there. But when it came to transport, I was a wide-eyed innocent. No, scrap that. I was a tight-arse fool. I didn’t organise transportation to my own wedding. On purpose. To save money. We lived in East Sydney, I figured I’d just flag a cab down. I stood on a grotty street corner, enormous bouquet in one hand, forlornly waving at cabs and prostitutes with the other. I got one eventually, but you really don’t need that stress in your life. Not on your wedding day. I was 32 when I got married. I’d been with my partner for almost 10 years. I didn’t want a fuss, just a big party. I’d been dropping subtle hints for months that I’d changed my mind about the whole marriage caper. I’d gone off the idea in my late twenties, after spending my teens fantasising I’d be married at 24 and pregnant at 26. But watching all our friends tie the knot, have babies and be fussed over, I felt a bit left out. I wanted something special to happen to me. I’m no romantic. When Husband proposed – on bended knee, in Paris no less – I hissed at him to “get up off the ground”. People were staring. I don’t like people staring. “Aren’t you going to say yes?” he replied. “Yes, yes! Now get up off the ground!” Bless him. The lack of poetry in my soul extended to the wedding itself. I decreed there would be no frothy wedding dress, no wedding cake, no wedding cars, no bridesmaids, no sit-down meal, no wedding video. I regret some of those decisions now. Particularly the cab and the wedding video. I thought wedding videos were naff. But the night passed in a blur and it would be so nice to have a record of it now. Finding a venue was tough. Everything was incredibly expensive or incredibly ugly or both. After touring every daggy sailing club and hall in Sydney, we eventually hired a photographic studio –  it was this big, blank space with high ceilings, huge windows and white walls; and it was very convenient for the wedding photos. I wanted acres of fairy lights, festooning the room. But I was too busy getting my hair and make-up done to supervise the lighting hire people, so I only got a few strands. My heart sank a tiny bit when I saw them. It lifted again when I spotted Husband. His face lit up when he saw me, he told me I looked like a salmon, shimmering in a stream. It was a compliment. The dress was from Collette Dinnigan. It’s the single most expensive item I’ve ever bought, aside from the house, the car and … can’t think of anything else. The idea was to choose something I could wear again on special occasions. (I wore it twice. It no longer fits me – no matter how much weight I lose – because the Sprogs expanded my ribcaged with their little pushy feet.) I fell in love with the dress when Kylie Minogue wore it on the cover of Cosmopolitan magazine. The dressmaker suggested I try on Kylie’s frock at the fitting. Yeah right, love, I’d be lucky to squeeze one of my thighs into that. My other extravagance for the wedding was hiring our favourite band to play, Karma County. They had a song called Oleanna. So beautiful. And close enough to my name to make the perfect serenade as I walked down the “aisle”. The room was filled with family and friends and colleagues. Loved ones came from near and far to celebrate with us. Being surrounded by them, having our future happiness toasted by them, was such a natural high. Waiters circulated with champagne and little boxes of fish and chips. Our parents gave speeches. We gave speeches. I can’t remember a word of any of them. But I’m sure they were lovely. Karma County left and a DJ took over. We danced and danced. We drank and drank. Guests disappeared into the night. We discovered another party upstairs and crashed it. There was more dancing. The host of the party upstairs tasked us with naming our first child after him. No idea what he was called, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t “Sprog 1” or “Sprog 2”. Finally, we tottered into the night and flagged a cab home. I’d kiboshed the wedding night hotel too. But we made up for it the next day by flying to the Seychelles for our honeymoon and our new life together. Which would have been much the same as our old life together, except for one exciting development. I’d just scored a job editing Singapore CLEO. The Seychelles were beautiful. Singapore was exciting. And we were about to be expat newlyweds. I was a very lucky woman.

SO, TELL ME, WHO WERE YOU ON YOUR WEDDING DAY?