So, I Went to This Wedding...

Well, another first out of the way for this divorcee. I promised to give you details, so here ya go, you nosy biotches. Are you ready? Because I am about to reveal something surprising...

I cried.

There. You happy? I'm not talking watery eyes. I'm not talking those few measly drops that only drip down because you blinked really, really hard. I really cried - both hands wiping my eyes, nose getting red kind of cried. It surprised me. It probably surprised all those in the vicinity. One dorky college aged kid kept staring at me. I tried to subtly shoot him the bird while wiping my tears, but, let's face it, subtlety is probably lost on him. Moron.

Anyway, even after the shitastic things I've been through, I apparently still have a somewhat intact heart. I was genuinely happy for my friend. And, I've got to admit, it filled me with the tiniest bit of hope for the whole "happily-ever-after" crapfest that I thought I had turned my back on after my divorce from Mr. Douche. See, my friend and I had a similar story: married young, had kids, found out the husband was hiding things, found out the husband was hiding MORE things, and then found out husband was diddling other women. This friend and I had discussed how difficult it was to find the right guy - especially one that would accept our children as his own. And, then, it happened...

She found one. The one. And she's impossibly happy. I watched them say their vows...with her children standing beside them...and listened to the preacher unite them as a family...and, yeah, I blubbered like a fat kid being denied a second helping of fried pork chops (don't judge, love me some friend pork chops).

And I wondered a couple of things while I watched my friend get married at dusk, in a flower draped gazebo on the lake, on an oppressively humid July night:

1. What's the good of having a great hair day INSIDE when the effing wedding is outside? The humidity is making it stick up in Roseanne Roseannadanna proportions (look it up, you freakin' youngsters).
2. Who the the hell has an outdoor wedding in July in the effing South? My makeup had melted off my face and into my cleavage before the flower girl skipped down the aisle.
3. Curse my thighs! They are all kinds of sticking together in this damn heat.
4. Is she wearing flats? Oh, HELL no!
5. Why do women with excessive back fat always wear backless dresses? The armfat/backfat overflow from that chick in row 2 is impressive. Impressively gross, but still impressive.
6. If I've got to traipse in these 5 inch heels over this gravel driveway to get to the reception, there better be two things: alcohol and cute guys who like to dance.
7. Don't look to the left; don't look to the left! Pimply guy with bad teeth is giving me the eye. If he asks me to dance, I will instantly become a lesbian. Oh LAWD, is he wearing white athletic socks with his dress shoes? This is why I hate going to weddings without a date.
8. I wonder if anyone can smell the mosquito repellent I put on? Oh, well. I'll tell them it's really expensive French perfume. Nothing uglifies your legs like bug bites.

And two serious thoughts....

9. My friend looks absolutely stunning...the prettiest I've ever seen her.
10. I wonder if I'll ever do this again...stand beside a man, pledge to love him, to respect him...all that shizzle. I wonder if, like my friend, I'll have the guts to try this whole marriage dealio again. And I wonder if I'll find a man amazing enough to make me consider standing outside on a hot night in July, not caring that my hair is frizz, and that my makeup is nonexistent, or that the gravel is hard to walk on, or that my dress is stuck to my skin, or that my thighs may be permanently fused together...because I love him that much.

I kind of hope I do...

Well, enough ooey gooey shit. I'm back to normal. I'll be back really soon. Lots to tell you. LOTS.

May you be so happy you shit rainbows and butterflies,
Annabelly