Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Sunday: Like the Bridal Shower All Over Again

Getting up for Sunday’s bridal brunch was grueling. Even knowing that The Groomsman and I were driving together.

I was strong-armed into wearing my glorious and bedazzled Bridesmaid t-shirt again. It hadn’t been washed. Thank goodness for ironing boards and Febreeze.

The bridal party sat together, rehashing the events of the night before. I am quite certain that the embarrassing garter belt incident was discussed. And I fondly recall telling on of my favorite stories: Meg’s glorious cable television debut.

Brunch was brunch. Eggs and French toast and fruit and the like. I downed quite a bit of coffee. And picked at my food.

“What? Are you on a diet or something?” The best man asked, looking at my plate. Hardly. I was just too tired to eat.

After a bit, I was planning my escape. I’d put in my time. I showed up. I sort of ate. And if I left right now I’d have time for a quick nap before Emma’s graduation party. I’m eying the situation. I’m mentally preparing.

And then, out of nowhere, comes a couch. And all of the wedding gifts. OF COURSE! We’re going to watch our bride and groom open them!

Gah. So I totally missed my opportunity.

And instead stayed – probably for another hour – and watched a parade of fine china and bathroom towels.

I did my duty as a bridesmaid: finding a garbage bag for the wrapping paper, assuring that an appropriate number of gifts were stacked at the feet of the newlyweds, putting presents back into boxes and acting bubbly and cheerful and OMG, THAT PLATTER IS SO BEAUTIFUL.

There was one awkward moment in which the bride opened a card that had been taped to a present, remarked that the gift givers had written them a check, too, and her mom (who was recording the gifts) said "how much is the check for?" Loudly.

The look of pure horror that The Groomsman gave me was precious.

So we watched the present opening and - finally! - we tasted freedom. Guests were scattering. The Groomsman and I took the opportunity to flee. I ended up driving him to his car, which was at the home of one of the other groomsman (one who wisely skipped out on brunch) maybe 20 minutes away in the direction I was heading.

The wedding weekend officially ended when I pulled my car beside The Groomsman's. There was a hug. A promise to get together soon.

And, as I drove towards my apartment, a sigh of relief.

I made it through alive. Having a bit of fun along the way.


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