Adventures in Bridesmaiding

My "middle" brother got married this weekend. I say "middle" because he is #3 of us 5, so he's the cool, creamy center to our oreo cookie...if people were oreo cookies...and oreo cookies had 2 layers of cookie on each side.

Ok, I didn't think that analogy through very well...I apologize.

Anyhow, he got married and, as the only sister, I'm legally obligated to stand in my brother's weddings. But, as a not-so-thin woman, I'm also genetically predisposed to fear bridesmaids dresses, fittings, high heels, and walking down aisles in unflattering apparel. It's a scientific fact! So, from the moment I got tapped to be in the wedding party, I started hyperventilating and I don't think that stopped until about 2 hours before the wedding.

Fun, right?

First, there was the dread of the dress and the shoes and the eyes on the fat, unwed older sister.

Then, there was the dread of the actual dress which was sleeveless and accentuated the midsection. (I comforted myself with the thought that at least the color was flattering on me.)

After this, there were the shoes. Four inch, skinny heels with nothing but a beaded band across the toes and an ankle strap to keep me in them. Being the good sport that I am, I tried them on. I tried to walk in them. I tried not to look terrified. I tried not to break an ankle (but thought, for a second that if I did, I might get out of this whole wedding thing).

Finally, there was the lump that formed in my throat at the thought of walking an aisle for someone else's wedding...again.

But because I loved my brother and his soon-to-be bride...I quickly got over my sad, sorry self and said yes to everything but the shoes. Which, doll that she is, my soon-to-be sister-in-law was fine with.

So, two showers, 200 ribbon-embellished invitations and 300 ribbon and charm embellished favors later...it was the weekend of the wedding. I'd found shoes I wouldn't die in and make-up I thought would accentuate my eyes and set off to go get my hair done.

I left 90 minutes later, on the verge of tears and looking like I was ready for my Senior Prom...in 1990. Or, perhaps a nice potluck at the Senior Center.

At least it only cost me $30.

I thought this would be the easy part. Certainly easier than the shoes and easier than the awful dress fittings out in the middle of the bridal shop. But, no. This was worse. I got back to my car, a mere 90 minutes away from having to take photos with the whole bridal party and looked in the rear view mirror. Then I cried. I went into the salon with visions of Christina Applegate's soft, wavy, tousled bob in my head and I came out looking like a really bad dance picture from my high school yearbook. All I needed were giant, poofy sleeves...and mood lipstick...and perhaps some neon blue eyeliner.

When I got to my destination, I walked to the house in the rain. I didn't care that my hair got wet, because, hey...things really couldn't get worse at this point. The other bridesmaids tried to be gracious and say kind things about the way I looked...but I wasn't buying it. Only my sister-in-law was willing to speak the truth. She took one look at me and said something like "You paid someone to do that to you?"

Filled with gratitude for someone who felt my pain, I gave her a kiss and a hug.

Thankfully, a neighbor lady who (forgive me for speaking so bluntly) seemed to have no concept of fashion or style for herself came to my rescue. She had done a really cute up do for one of the other bridesmaids and was more than happy to help me out of my coiffure quandary. In the end, I was very pleased with my hair. It wasn't the tousled bob I was hoping for, but it also most certainly wasn't bad 90's prom pic hair either...and I was glad.

I gave her a kiss and a hug, too.

After that, it was smooth sailing. The wedding was beautiful and the reception was a blast. Oh, and I have another sister.

Sweet!

Also...my hair has fully recovered.

Thanks for asking!