weekend from hell...

i was a bridesmaid in a wedding several years ago. the bride & i were friends at the time, but were starting that “growing apart” process. i guess she included me since i had agreed to fill the same position a previous time before; that particular union never made it to fruition, obviously. but i digress…

the weekend had already started off a little rocky. it was an out of town location, i was still nursing with the babe & hubs in toe, & my dress didn’t fit correctly (i was still suffering from post pardum, so the fact that i was 45 lbs overweight was a killah). plus, all the other ladies in the party snubbed the crap out of me.  oh, & my hair was on strike that week…i do remember that! but, when i commit to something & say “i’ll be there,” then well, i’ll be there.

now, i have always been me…which is a good thing & a bad thing. i usually mesh well with everyone, but some people just don’t get ole ash. either they’re very serious or have no sense of humor, so when i say something sarcastic or as a means of a tension breaker, i just get “the look!” being the good sport that i am, i roll with the punches & when i see a break, i run like hell!

i received said “look” several times that special weekend…it was awesome! i’ve mentioned before that the filtration between my brain & my mouth is constantly under construction. i never say things intended to be rude or critical or insensitive, however, i do forget where i am at times & who i’m around. & certain places, people, & things are breeding grounds for my inevitable verbal diarrhea. hence, “the look!”

friday night:  the rehearsal dinner

your average run of the mill rehearsal. you…walk here. you…go there. pretty normal. along with the normality of the wild & crazy ring boy who slung the hell out of that pillow. the pillow, which i made special for the bride using an old handkerchief that i’d gotten from her grandmother (real sweet lady, btw…not! she decided that she didn’t care for me the moment i met her.) anyways, i had kind of nudged her & said “hey, that’s actually an heirloom i got from your grandma that makes up the case of the ring pillow, so you might wanna get him to be a little more delicate or maybe just not ‘practice’ with it.” (smile) to which i believe the response was kind of like, “oh…ok” (with a look of “uh, ok…whatever!”)

after everyone got an idea of the lowdown on the showdown, a precession to the restaurant ensued. the place was nice & pretentious & all that wedding goodness. the ‘we’re regular people, but we want you to think that we’re better than regular people, & actually roll like this all the time’ kind of place. the food was your typical low country cuisine with an emphasis on whatever & grits. thank goodness i eat fish…because i was already about to be the problem child in the group; i just didn’t know it yet.

we were seated with the “other” married couples because we’d have something in common? meanwhile, they were all like 12 & had only been married at most, a year! oh, wait…one of the couples had a baby too, so maybe they had been married over a year. & there was the other common thread to the seating chart perhaps, except they had left their under one at home with the grands. it was the single most boring dinner i’ve ever sat through in my life. me! even i could not enjoy it…& there was food & everything.  ps…back at the hotel, i was sick as a dog. omen? you tell me...

saturday:  the big event

morning time was super. breakfast & brief beach time (monkey's first) with the boys before i had to head out to meet fellow bridesmaids for a pedicure per our bridal gift. of course, i was late. we were meeting during a nursing time (which was an okay arrangement when it was mentioned at an earlier time.) then, i got lost. some times this can happen when you’re in a strange place, have wonky directions, & no gps (that technological marvel came into my life later on). but i made it! so, i’m sitting in the massage chair, without acknowledgement by anyone, except the pedi lady. the dress, that i would later snake myself into, was lavender. i was presented with 3 different shades. “what do you want?”…”oh, i like that shade, thanks.” (stare from lady) “what you want me to do?”…”oh, um, maybe french manicure? with a purple tip?” (happy face from lady) good choice, i thought. fast forward to 10-15 minutes later…bad choice. apparently, this decision cost the bride extra, i think. i mean, all i knew was that there was a lot of whispering & everyone was checking out my different toes with looks of disgust. great!

i drove back to the hotel, picked up my stuff & the hubs dropped me off at the venue to get ready. so there i am, praying to everything holy to get through the next few hours under the radar. not gonna happen…did not happen.

i enter the dressing room to the tiny, long-legged, nouveau riche sorority of bridesmaids with my 10...12…size 14 dress (which required paint thinner to remove) & my hot rollers. my very old hot rollers. i was a class act, people. let’s get this party started! i was met by smiles because as you know, we are southern ladies after all. but looking back, those may have been smirks after checking out my rad vintage box o curlers. who the hell knows.

let the humiliation begin...first, i inquired about one of the bride’s friends…would she be coming & was that her girlfriend at the last bridal shower with her, etc. oh, what did i say? you would have thought that i yelled “fuck” really loud without any reason. you could have heard a pin drop. the looks that i got were like daggers. how dare i insinuate…what did i mean by…why would i say something like…et cetera, et cetera! really?! sorry, i actually thought they were a couple. you see, in my world, this is not an odd question. but that wasn’t even the good part! imagine that. i managed to roll my hair & do my own (god forbid) makeup off in a corner, when a thought occurred to me. i will make a neat connection with the bride, who is my friend. & she's been so busy, so this will be "our" moment. now, this would have been the perfect time for the filtration system to be activated, but no, not so much. i made my way to the bride-to-be & softly asked (knowing her father had passed many years before hand) “are you saving a special seat for your dad up front?” (because some people do that, dammit.) and the reply was, very loudly, in front of everyone…wait for it…”my dad is dead!!” & it hit me again, “the look!” omg, i felt like crawling in a freaking hole. it was bad, it was really bad!

so, i suffered through pictures. caught a glimpse of the hubs & baby…oh, thank goodness. & managed to smile through the ceremony. it really was a beautiful wedding, but what was more gorgeous was seeing the familiar friendly faces of ladies that had made the trip. the ones who knew my unfiltered, foot in mouth self & still managed to love me. & also, it was time to drink!! c’mon, don’t judge me! pump & dump, folks…pump & dump!

i don’t remember much after that, other than being glad to come home where i could be myself. not in a corner, not getting "the look," just me. finally, the normalcy of acceptance!       

i can’t remember the last time i spoke with the bride, & i never told her how awful that weekend was for me. i figure, if she had a blast & it was her most special day, then that’s all that really matters, right?!