Now let me just first say that I am well aware that saying a word like retarded is not very "PC", especially in my field of work! However there is plain and simply no other word to describe this blonde in the story you are about to read, trust me I've racked my brain and even googled...Next month I will be doing something that I have become very good at. It will be my 6th time performing this duty. Six other gals that I will be identically dressed will be doing the same thing. I will be a bridesmaid. If that saying "Always a bridesmaid, never a Bride" just entered your mind, I just want to take a moment to remind you about KARMA. Be nice.
I am very excited about being a part of this wedding. From the hot attire (who doesn't love an eggplant cocktail dress!) to the entire wedding party and wonderful couple, it is bound to be a blast.
The fun has begun already. In the past month or so, almost all of the (surprisingly good looking) groomsmen have conveniently become single. I have been given the full background on each of them, voluntarily of course, I'm a lady after all. The fiance and my lovely friend have given me permission/warnings where appropriate and necessary. Statements like "He's totally ready to settle down," "Now that's a GOOD guy" and "I'm just not sure how great his motives are" flew across the dinner table a few nights prior. I met the soon-to-be-marrieds and most of these GMs at a laid back joint and was thoroughly enjoying myself.
Naturally, good conversation and shuffle board is formula for a good time. Everyone decided to head elsewhere so that we could dance (in reality this was decided by the one loud guy in the group who dances wherever he is, always makes the decisions the group follows and is completely loved by all he meets, you know this friend). Our herd headed to a more dance worthy location and proceeded to get our groove thangs on. I of course did NOT use the saying GROOVE THANGS (although who wouldn't want to) in an attempt to hide the fact that I'm a total nerd til a later time, like maybe the second meeting.
I had been bantering the evening away with my walk down the isle buddy. Note: This is key to being a successful bridesmaid. You always want to become pals with your isle buddy, not too close if he's married (usually the case) but just close enough to not feel awkward gripping his bicep as you attempt not tumbling down a grassy hill in heels. Don't worry, more tips to come in my upcoming book Bridesmaid 101, TBA after Bridesmaid adventure #10. So, only two cervezas deep (in other words, not a drunk girl) Isle buddy and I begin comparing dance moves, so that upon entering the reception we have a little jig prepared. Duh. The comparing turns into somewhat of I dunno...a dance battle, if you will. Now I've lost things before, like not making 1st chair clarinet in the 5th grade, but I REFUSE to be runner up in a dance battle. It's just not going to happen. With a look of complete confidence in my eyes, I put down my clutch and the cocktail that I've taken one swig of since we arrived. In my initial stages of the "Lawn-mower" I step onto the rim of the glass I've stupidly placed right where my dancing feet will end up, my ankle gives out and I FALL to the ground, to land in somewhat of an awkward stag position. The vodka soda has spilled to soak my rump and I am...embarrassed. Did I mention the rest of our party had formed a circle around us to watch, ya know, in a usual dance battle fashion?!
How I actually reacted is blurred by my overwhelming desire to curl into fetal position under a bar stool and slowly rock back and forth for the remainder of the evening! Can we say MORTIFIED! Hopefully later moves like "The Sprinkler" and "Drivin' the Car" made up for my little bump in the road. These two are usually only used for certain occasions but I was nothing short of desperate at this point! I can just imagine the entire wedding party thinking, "So is this girl drunk...or just retarded?" Uh...the latter, thank you.
Later I woke up in the middle of the night, and as the image crossed my mind I couldn't help but cover my face with the palm of my hand and shake my head in shame. Wow. Seriously?
Oh and my left ankle kinda hurts.
But my pride hurts even more.
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