A Quote by Leandra Medine

I haven't worn make-up since my wedding, and my husband loves me a lot. — © Leandra Medine
I haven't worn make-up since my wedding, and my husband loves me a lot.
I've worn a dress at my wedding. I've worn 6-inch Louboutins. I've got no fear and no shame.
There are some things I don't understand about Jess and never will. No wedding dress. No flowers. No photo album. No champagne. The only thing she got out of her wedding was a husband. (I mean, obviously the husband is the main point when you get married. Absolutely. That goes without saying. But still, not even a new pair of shoes?)
I recently went mad and spent 1,000 in one afternoon on bras and knickers. I love classy, lacy stuff that makes you feel dead sexy knowing you've got it on. I've never worn stockings and suspenders, though. But I could imagine they'd make you feel really sexy worn under something formal. I think I'll save that experience and wear them under my wedding dress.
As I grew up and began identifying myself as a feminist, there were plenty of issues that continued to make me question marriage: the father "giving" the bride away, women taking their husband's last name, the white dress, the vows promising to "obey" the groom. And that only covers the wedding.
As I grew up and began identifying myself as a feminist, there were plenty of issues that continued to make me question marriage: the father 'giving' the bride away, women taking their husband's last name, the white dress, the vows promising to 'obey' the groom. And that only covers the wedding.
I sort of feel like Cindy Crawford's new husband on their wedding night. I know what's expected of me. I'm just not sure I've got the ability to make it interesting.
I love both real and fake jewelry. My kids make me necklaces, and I wear those, too. Every day, I wear my gold wedding band and the Cartier watch my husband gave me.
I was a wedding planner's assistant for years. And I knew I did not want to have a traditional wedding because I had worked a million of them. So my husband and I got married at a sleepaway camp in the Berkshires.
If you had asked me when I was 28 and in my wedding dress if I ever thought I would end up in my forties flipping my husband the bird over potato chips, I'd say you were crazy.
I know my husband loves me fiercely and passionately. I know he supports me and will always stand up for me.
My husband has a wife who is happy to wander round in old leggings held up with worn elastic. I'm happy with who I am and I'm more concerned with other issues and trying any way I can to make a better world for our children.
The mystique and the romance of a big wedding are lost on me. I don't think that I could ever do something that extravagant. I am not much of a planner. I would probably make the phone call 20 minutes before the bus leaves for the chapel and ask if anyone is available to come. That's probably how my wedding is going to end up.
Before we make love my husband takes a pain killer. I blame my mother for my poor sex life. All she told me was, 'the man goes on top and the woman underneath'. For three years my husband and I slept on bunk beds. I'm a double bagger. Not only does my husband put a bag over my face when we're making love, but he also puts a bag over his head in case mine falls off. It's so long since I've had sex, I've forgotten who ties up whom. My best birth control now is to leave the lights on.
My husband believes that he can make a difference. He loves people.
When I planned my wedding the first time, my ex-husband and I, we were both struggling comics. I had a TV show that had gotten cancelled. Basically, I rented a wedding gown; the reception hall smelled like feet.
What the altar-bound of today end up buying from their numberless vendors is a dog's breakfast of bridal excess - part society wedding of the twenties, part Long Island Italian wedding of the fifties. It's The Philadelphia Story and The Wedding Singer served up together in one curious and costly buffet.
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