Tiny Hiney

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A personal wedding from hell story
5:32 a.m. - Monday, Feb. 03, 2003

I'm not planning a wedding or anything but I still like to read Going Bridal. [This link will still work but unfortunately, Sarah is no longer updating Going Bridal.] Sarah posted a link there to Wedding Etiquette Hell. It's a really good how-to on what *not* to do at wedding, like allowing a drunken best man to make a toast. I usually don't get offended when anybody uses the f-word but I don't think while you're toasting the happy couple is the right time to say "it's all about the fucking."

Of course, now I'm reminiscing about my own "I was in the wedding from hell" story. I've been asked to be in several weddings but one couple ended up eloping, and another time I just could not afford the bridesmaid's dress or the airline ticket back east. I was, however, in my brother's wedding.

The bridesmaids dresses were scary. The color wasn't too bad -- it was a mauve, I guess -- but they had spaghetti straps. That was the first mistake -- out of the four bridesmaids, three of us did not have the arms to go sleeveless. To make it worse, they were made out of polyester. And the guy who was supposed to hem mine and take up the straps a little, instead took it in at the waist for some unknown reason. I didn't find this out until the day before the wedding when it was too late to do anything about it. It was like wearing a mauve polyester corset.

Sometime before the wedding, I asked my sister-in-law-to-be what kind of shoes she wanted us to wear. Her response: "it's your choice." When I found out her sister was going to wear a different belt than the one that came with the dress, I asked if the rest of us should do the same and was told "it's your choice." I asked if she had any ideas for our hair and again I heard "it's your choice." I guess some people would like the idea of being given a choice but I still wonder what she would have done had I shown up wearing my red Converse low tops, suspenders and a fez.

Flash forward to the wedding... about 20 minutes into the reception, I started to feel like I was going to pass out. Later there was speculation that perhaps my mauve polyester corset was cutting off my air supply. Since the wedding was being held on the Queen Mary, an ocean liner that had been permanently docked in Long Beach and converted into a hotel, I ended up in one of the hotel rooms, where I fell asleep for hours and missed the rest of the reception. My sister and her friend later came up to see if I was ok. They brought me a roll to eat, because that was pretty much all that was left of the food at the reception. So, in other words, someone who did not RSVP to say they were coming, showed up anyway and ate my lunch.

There was more fun stuff...like my brother the groom suggesting my mom (she is his step-mom) not attend the rehearsal dinner because his own mother would be there (never mind the fact that my dad was not only paying for the rehearsal dinner but also for the entire wedding)...making the elderly wheelchair-bound grandma of the groom stand up to get her picture taken (like everybody couldn't have leaned down a little?)...the mother of the bride trying to forcibly put make-up on my sister...the groom and best man being spotted in the mens room snorting cocaine...one of the bride's sisters stealing my sister's bouquet, and when we went to retrieve it, we walked in on a hotel room pot party for the members on the wedding (I guess the coke was all gone by then)...the guests who wore jeans (I think I know who ate my lunch, damn it)...such a lovely day.

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