5 dresses
Rich rented "27 dresses" last night for my lazy and bloated viewing pleasure. Actually, I requested him to find the movie and to not return until he had it firmly embedded in his hot little hand. For some ungodly reason, I was in the mood for a chick-flick. Be assured, this is an uncommon occurrence and I blame the hormones for such a weakness in my character.
Honestly, I have to admit - I liked the flick. I liked it because I HAVE BEEN the person who pleased the bride-to-be before, during and after their wedding. Helping them plan their events, pick out a wedding dress, hold their dress out of the commode while they peed, toasting to their "good fortune," drinking all their free alcohol and running from the sling-shot bouquet toss when the humiliating "single ladies" round-up occurred (this situation was where I would draw the line in aiding and supporting.)
I helped every prospective bride because I was secretly in love with weddings just like the main character in the movie and sadly - in love with being in love (Let us not discuss my lack of stable relationships during most of the weddings I gracedattended.)
After the credits started rolling across the screen, I thought back to the good, the bad and the down-right ugly in bridesmaid's dresses I had worn in the past. While I think I've been in more than 5 weddings, I could only muster up 5 pictures of proof. You know you want to see them. I won't even make you beg.
Let's start with the first wedding that pretty much ruined me for all wedding in the future (including my own.)
Here I am, a spry twenty-two, virgin eyebrow plucking college Senior. The black velvet bridesmaid's dress was from Victoria's Secret and bordered on new and crazy for a bridesmaid in 1991. The black velvet part that is. This event would happen to be the only time in my life in which I wore a size 4 (I blame the drastic diet of wisdom teeth extraction for such an awesome feat.) This was the only wedding in which I did not have to pay a cent for the privilege of being a bridesmaid.
I quickly learned, this windfall of good fortune is not always the case during subsequent weddings.
The next wedding occurred in July 1993.
God love you Tiffany (and I really do) but burgundy velvet and shiny taffeta are not a winning combination during the hottest day of July in Oklahoma. I do believe I lost around 10lbs during the 30 minute ceremony and strangely enough, my fresh and thick matte makeup failed to drip and run during such climate issues and equally held up during hysterical tears. The tears were not for the bride and her moment but for my boyfriend who was not in attendance to walk me down the aisle. The ass-wipe of a boyfriend would happen to be Rich who just so happened to be enjoying his sweet self on a second tour of duty in Alaska. Fishing. I chose to stay in Oklahoma, graduate and attend this wedding. Alone.
Note to self: Less is more in the eyebrow powder department.
Third? Who is to say when this wedding occurred but I think it was in December of 2004 (and why yes, this IS a picture of a picture. This would explain the tilted vision of loveliness.)
I happened to be encased in a lovely Emerald green velvet dress in which the shear weight of this beauty hindered and obstructed my drunk free-falling ass down a large hill. This was the night of many firsts. Two-steppin' it to country music, promises of free trips to Paris the next month by willing suitors, the almost puking into a Poinsettia wrapper instead of the Poinsettia owner's nice Mercedes followed by my locking the bathroom door, puking and then passing out at a wedding after party - which happened to be the Poinsettia owner's beautiful three story home. The most horrifying event of all? I was forced to sleep in a Garth Brooks t-shirt after the bathroom door had been successfully picked open by the hostess. A subsequently lengthy and long discussion arose over my modesty and my inability to willingly don on the offensive t-shirt. Sadly, the hostess won the argument. Strange enough, I was invited to parties at this residence for years to come however, I did have to promise to not lock any doors during my visits.
The next wedding? I was single. Rich and I weren't dating and I was semi-newly heartbroken over another idiot with whom I had been engaged to earlier that year.
(I know you're wondering why I had to take another picture of a picture instead of scanning this beaut. The answer is? I'm totally lazy..... and an inept photographer.)
This dress was purchased for me without my measurements taken into account. Free? I'll take it! and not look in the mirror and hide behind bouquets. Don't worry about me......Really..... As you can see, I pretty much drank my way through the reception to ease the pain and suffering of having a dress fit too tightly around the hip/saddle baggage action.
Note to self: celery green looks like shit on me. Never wear it again.
2002 - a.k.a. too old to be a bridesmaid or matron of honor- p.s.s. done with the whole attendant gig: Pregnant with Celia and I do believe fresh from the bathroom from either crying or puking my bloated guts up. Notice the awesome BIG boning in the strapless unshapely bodice? Notice the 20 yards of red taffeta bunched unsuccessfully under the bodice? Notice how hugely HUGE I am while pregnant? Note this was the only wedding I have attended sober. I guess one out of fifty isn't so bad.
This would conclude my walk down bridesmaid lane. I thought I would throw in a picture of my bridesmaid's dresses from my own wedding in May of 2000.
These two piece dresses were hand-sewn with love by my sweet little arthritic Grandmother - laced with promises of the ability to wear the skirt again -topped with a nice cardigan and pearls whispered in skeptical ears. Yep, I was a total cliche. I seemingly uttered the same corny line I had been diligently fed throughout my wedding attendant years while knowing full well - bridesmaids never want to wear this shit again.





























