Posted by: Chelsea Novak | August 9, 2006

There is no Chelsea, only Zuul

It is a sunny summer day. Not too humid, a light breeze passing over the city. Our scene finds us with a young woman of about 29. She appears calm, collected, reasonable and rather cutely attired.

She seems fine on the outside as she weaves her way through the crowded city streets. Her cell phone rings and she engages in a wedding-related conversation. It is one month to the day to her nuptuals. Up until this day she has been what those in the know refer to as Zen Bride. Not hugely stressed about the details, effective and effcient in her task managment, diligent to the core. Calm, cool, filled with anticipation of a very fun day, but largely normal and sane.

The crowds become dense and irritatingly slow. The young woman only has her quickly dwindling lunch break to get her many wedding-related tasks done. The person on the phone tells the young woman some wedding related news she doesn’t want to hear, news that Zen Bride would have been slightly concerned over, but would have dispatched a solution with skill. But Zen Bride is gone now. Long gone.

Upon hearing the news her gaze narrows. The sun seems to fade from the sky, the earth begins to tremble. Steam appears to be busting forth from her ears. She rears her head back as if to shout and emits a terrifying screech. A sound that could only come from a beast 100 times her size.

And then the unthinkable. Before the eyes of stunned onlookers, the normal young woman, once revered for her composure, transforms before their eyes. She grows up and out, turning green and growing a tail, fangs and claws, with an absurdly large chiffon veil top her newly formed lizard head.

She is Bridezilla. All will feel her wrath and get the hell out of her way cause she’s got things to get done.


The above was a fictonalization of what’s been going on in my head the last few days. Bridezilla still remains caged, and as M points out I’m not turning into Bridezilla, I’m turning into Stresszilla.



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