The BloggerPlay Short Story Series, Entry # 2

Always a bridesmaid? Thank Christ not. What would I do with another ugly taffeta dress (brown this time, as you might have noticed)?

Laura and I go back to our freshman year at Ole Miss. She was two doors down from me. As I remember, her roomate, whom we lovingly called satan, was a cutter. I'm talking O.G. goth. Had it not been for satan (that and my roomate, Kayla, always staying at her boyfriends apartment), Laura and I probably would have had no reason to become friends. With an intervention of fate, our mutual love of Tristan Prettyman and Orlando Bloom, several microwaved bags of popcorn, and too many midnight trips to Wal-Mart, our friendship blossomed. So, of course, I am only too happy, five years later, to be celebrating her wedding day with her.

I mentioned the dress is brown, right? Laura, wanting to be as positive as possible, said that the bouquets (like something out of a sci-fi film) and the dress would be the only part of our wardrobe she would dictate. She told us to alter the dresses however we liked. "Make it your own," she would say. And then she would laugh the next line off. "I mean, this is a dress you will be able to wear over and over again." Where did this lie come from? How is it still perpetuated? And what is up with that girl's hem? More on that later.

I only questioned Laura one time on her decision to let us basically re-design the dresses. It was about 2 months ago at lunch. Over dessert. Something chocolate. She sold me with one line. "Because you wouldn't be comfortable unless you were distinctive." Yes, Laura and I are big Julia Roberts fans. And yes, I know that line was delivered by Cameron Diaz. It was still effective. Had I known then what I know now??? Namely that I would know what "Ms. Bulldog-wearing-a-trashbag-hem" would have done??? I would have fought harder. I should have fought harder.

My "I-told-you-so" came right as we were about to finish with the photographer. Laura, who, if you know her, is a compulsive list and schedule maker, takes a 30 second pause from posing and smiling to announce to the bridesmaids and groomsmen that we all, as the wedding party, would be changing into our civies after the first hour of the reception. This was sooooooo not on any one of the agendas I had seen yet. So, the clock has started. I'm 60 minutes away from looking and feeling like a normal person. Don't think the open bar won't help that along. And don't think that I will jump into the melee to catch the bouquet. Seriously. I'm afraid of losing an eye.