bloodyrosemccoy | Zen And Always The Bridesmaid

Celebration of the Senses
Descendants Day
Saint John the Baptist Day
John's Day (Latvia)
Macau Day (China)

Bridesmaid, valet, clothes rack—I do it all.

My friend Jess is getting married on Wednesday. It’s weird to realize that you’re at the age where your friends can start getting married. Jess is only a few weeks my senior, and here she’s been planning her marriage for … well, it’s a long and intensely touchy story, so let’s just say she’s been working on it off and on since we graduated from high school. And here it hasn’t even occurred to me yet, unless you count Liz, but that’s just metaphorical.

And somehow, I got the job of bridesmaid. Apparently all the people with pure souls were busy.

So on Thursday I went Shopping with her and her mother to get something fancible-looking for me and her. This meant I got handed a gigantic pantsuit that fit with all the tailoring and appeal of a sleeping bag, and then was dragged off to various department stores to buy some jewelry and shoes (time spent: half an hour) and Jess another formal dress for the Wedding Breakfast (time spent: three and a half hours). I got earrings held up to my ears for a while, and then I spent the rest of the trip following her around holding the dresses she would select to try on. Then I would sit patiently and comment on the dresses she got. And each dress merited the exact same comment: “It’s nice, but I can see your garment.”*

It was at about the time we arrived at Dillard’s, at 8:55 pm, and she selected 20 more dresses to try on in the darkening fitting rooms, hours past when I had expected to get home and have dinner because I hadn’t had much food that day, that I realized I had done something I rarely do: I had entered my Transcendent Zen Hypoglycemic State. Unlike my usual cranky unfed demeanor, this state is when I just become quiet and zone out and you can do whatever the hell you want to with me and I’ll just smile vaguely. I sat and smiled vaguely as I told Jess her garments were showing, and as the lights began to go out around the store, and as the PA announced for the fifth time “Attention, customers. Dillard’s is now closed. ~~Get the hell out of our store~~ Please come back tomorrow.” I smiled vaguely as we discussed altering the extremely size 12 pantsuit I’d been presented with. I smiled vaguely as I was told I would be stationed at the guestbook to encourage people to write fun comments in different colors of pen. I would have smiled vaguely if they had told me that part of the ceremony included chopping off the bridesmaid’s thumbs as a sacrifice.

The Dude, seeing my vague smile upon my return, took me to Wendy’s and I got a couple of wonderfully bad cheeseburgers as my first real meal of the day. Thank the gods for fast food.

And then I went to 妹’s consignment shop the next day and got a similar pantsuit that fit and went with the original jacket (which does fit), and also the most awesome fancy sparkly dress that, on me, makes me so glamorous that I won’t have any trouble finding someone to marry if I choose.

But so far, I’m sticking with bridesmaid.

*The Temple Garment is a Utah thing, which at less formal times I will refer to as the “Famous Mormon Underwear.”** It comprises a small undershirt with a neckline just above the cleavage and capped sleeves over the shoulders, and underpants which extend to just above the knee. It has magical symbols on it to repel evil. And it sets a standard for modesty which means you probably shouldn’t pick out a whole pile of dresses with spaghetti straps.

**Which is also what I’m going to name my rock and roll band, unless I go with “The Hitchcock Blondes.”