Bride Elect (Evolution of a Bridezilla)
Chapter Twenty-One—Best. Matron. Of. Honour. EVER!
As Palucid assured me, he managed to attend soccer practise, and complete his “small job” with plenty of time to spare. What he didn’t take into account was the velocity the Bridal Vortex could take on in the presence of my family.
My sister had texted me a few times concerned over things like cheese platters, and hair appointments. I am not sure, but I think for her there was very nearly a scheduling conflict between a much needed “cut’n’colour” and the arranging of several hundreds of dollars’ worth of Wisconsin cheese. I directed her frantic concerns to my maid of honour who deftly offered feedback that was soothing.
My brother, convinced that he was being duped into attending some kind of girly bridal shower, showed tremendous reticence. To be fair, he was also very swamped with his work, and had been spending many hours in unpaid overtime throughout the week and weekend. I suspect his reticence was more of a sleep deprived crankiness than fear of estrogen-overdose. Either way, his tardiness/threatened absence, was proving to prompt my mom into a bit of a tizzy.
My parents had attended a retro inspired high school alumni dinner the night before our Games Night. My dad’s outfit for this event was a huge hit, and was met with tonnes of praise from all in attendance that night. Not unlike a six year super stoked about Batman ™ pyjamas, my dad decided to wear the same outfit to our Games Night. He greeted me at the door dressed in a fedora, plaid shirt, sweater vest, blue jeans, and loafers. Here before me, was a Father of the Bride ready to party! Moreover—he had yet to show me the crowning glory to his outfit: his Sadie Hawkins Corsage.
My mom was either having a seizure, or she was communicating her resignation via eye-rolling. She had hidden this corsage—but not very well because my dad managed to find it record time. To be fair, this was no dainty corsage thus something not easily hidden. This corsage could easily damage the finest silk shirts, or even cashmere sweater vests. This corsage was approximately five feet in length. It was a teddy bear wrapped in curly-cue ribbon. The curly-cue ribbon had buttons, bows and beads attached. It was…something…
By the time Palucid got to my parents, I was about three seconds away from sending him smoke signals of distress. To do so would have meant my rekindling my childhood arsonist ways—when I was three, lighting a rug on fire was forgivable if not kind of cute in that “little stinker” kind of way. Sadly, arson was one of those things that rapidly loses its “cute” vibe with age.
Palucid didn’t really say much out loud, but he did take hold of my hand and didn’t let go until we got to the hall. When we got there, I was greeted by my maid of honour, and all the duty free alcohol she bought in the States the weekend before. She bought rum, gin, and vodka. As I felt the warm and fuzzy glow of gin enter my blood stream I looked at my friend and smiled. She was the best maid of honour—EVER.