I
think I left on in my last post by saying something like, “What could possibly
go wrong?” in regard to my friend Ann's wedding.
As
it turns out, a whole lot more than you think. Remember, I had reconciled my
fate as a mid-life bridesmaid, one who had to wear a lemon yellow taffeta dress
and put up with her friend’s bridezilla ways as she recreated her first wedding to replace any memory of it.. I figured the only way to get
through the whole ordeal, which is what it was rapidly becoming, was to just
mind my own business, hustle down the aisle using my bouquet to hide my droopy
boobies, hope the minister talked fast, and pray none of the doves would poop
on my head.
Simple,
right? And again, what could possibly go wrong? I mean, it’s not as if I was in
charge of releasing the doves or cuing the choir, was it? Nope. Just had to
lead the bride to her groom and stay on my feet without my breasts flopping out of my top. And that did happen...
Before I get to the end of
this little tale, I have to tell you about the nice young man who had been
assigned to be my escort. This
kid, at seventeen, was the most well-mannered child I’ve ever met. He could
have been a real jerk, given he was assigned to walk an old fart down the aisle
instead of a younger, prettier bridesmaid, but he was always polite and nice,
making small talk as needed during the rehearsal and being helpful whenever his
parents asked him to help out his Auntie Ann with something. I think he’s the
son of one of Ann’s besties and so got selected to step in, probably to make
the numbers of groomsmen to bridesmaids work out correctly.
Anyway,
to have a kid that young be so patient with Ann’s demands (we ended up walking
down the aisle three times until Ann felt like we got the cadence of the music
just right with our steps), was truly inspiring and made me feel better about
deciding to just roll with whole shebang.
And
I would have, if the whole shebang had actually taken place, but, well, we didn’t
quite make it to the “I do” part. It was nothing really dramatic, as you would
imagine, like on the schmaltzy movies where someone stands up during the “if
anyone objects” part or where another man or woman comes running in to claim the
bride or groom during the ceremony. Not quite that dramatic. However…
The
big day arrives and we all get to our assigned places and everything proceeds
as planned. I walk down the aisle with Junior in my lemon yellow catastrophe,
and four bridesmaids later, Ann majestically strolls toward Ed to the strains
of a choir singing something like Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. She gets to the
altar and we’re all standing there and Ed, who hasn’t taken his eyes off Amy,
suddenly gets all misty. We all think it’s because he’s seeing Ann in her
wedding gown, circa her first wedding to The Jerk (yes, she even had her dress
re-made to reflect her first wedding). But as it turn out, he’s all misted up because
he’s eyeballing Amy, who has been the object of his affections for some time, we later discover.
Well,
THAT turned out to be a surprise.
So,
Ed is blubbering as Ann walks up. She takes her place beside him and Ed, the “nice”
guy, suddenly looks down and starts yammering about how he feels about Amy, who
is standing there with a grin that is half incredulous and half thrilled. Ann
is standing there trying to figure it all out as this disaster unfolds, and I—the
one who just wanted to get through it all without making a fool of myself—made a
fool of myself.
As
soon as Ed started giving too much information about his infatuation with Amy,
I started cackling. Then I started guffawing. Then I became the bridesmaid who
couldn’t stop laughing despite the discomfort of everyone else in the venue. So
as all this drama is happening, I’m standing there in my lemon yellow prison giggling like a middle-schooler or a maniac while Ann is facing the most humiliating
experience of her life.
On
the bright side, after Amy and Ed left Ann at the altar in tears, The Jerk, who
ended up attending without his new spouse, ran up to embrace Ann and comfort
her. This was the longest embrace in the history of embraces, and I laughed the
whole time. I have no idea where The Jerk’s wife was, but I’m guessing her
future holds discussions about the speedy dissolution of marital property.
I
guess the moral of the story—since I’ve not heard any good gossip otherwise—is that
you should never miss the opportunity to be a bridesmaid, if anything but for
the sheer entertainment factor.
Happy
Reading!
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