Inspired by Jen Doll at the Hairpin.
- The one where I puked. I was five and got sick all over my dress. My parents whisked me away in a taxi before the reception.
- The one where I was a flower girl. My super cool, magic-trick wielding, motorcycle-riding cousin was getting married to a gorgeous lady who sported leather jackets. (They're still together, and still cool). I vividly remember trying on the peach satin dress with white lace overlay and later pairing it with a gigantic white flower & streamer headband.
The one at the Faire. Renaissance theme in the woods around Tahoe, family I'd forgotten, and my mom glaring at my grandma for dancing too close to younger men. I don't remember much else, but I kept the program in an old photobook.
- The shotgun. My high school bestie and his wife-to-be started their family very, very early. I was a groomsman (woman?), wore a vest, and lent my skirt to a bridesmaid (in favor of pants). It rained the best kind of rain at the reception (big, warm droplets). I ate nacho cheese from a crockpot and danced outside.
- The other cousins. Swanky country club, swanky Greek Orthodox ceremony, not so swanky wrap dress from Target.
- The one with bees. I ----ing hate bees. My boyfriend at the time took me as a date to his friends' wedding. They had rotten-tasting champagne in mini bottles marked with the names of the bride and groom. I wore a stretchy lavender floral dress.
- The one with garters. I was feeling adventurous, so I put on a black wrap dress and thigh high stockings held up by garters. My date was the same as before, and this again was his friends' wedding. I knew no one and the mother of the bride glared at me and my stockings.
- The one with a new friend. Three weddings in one summer and again it was my boyfriend's friends. This time I ended up becoming forever friends with the bride. She is brilliant and funny. Every table had a camera, so I snapped silly shots of people I hardly knew. Can't for the life of me remember what I wore.
- The one with an old friend. Up to Montana from Colorado to see another high school bestie marry a gal from our rival high school. I'd dyed my hair red, wore all black, and sang at a Catholic ceremony. It was lovely seeing all of the old crew from high school - far enough out that we had plenty of news, but not so long that we'd lost the closeness.
- The one in the mountains. Up to Big Sky for a serene and gorgeous mountain ceremony. The black wrap dress came out again and my latest boyfriend met a man who was actually named Bubba. Who does that to their children?
- The one in the backyard. Overcrowded, Christmas lights, and a marriage that lasted a year. Oh, yes, black. Wrap. Dress.
- The sweetest one. My favoritest cousins, an aunt, and my favorite set of wedding vows. "Til life or love leaves us." I wore a long black maxi dress, burgundy cardigan, and red kitten heels. Ooooh, and the gluten-free cake: AMAZING.
- The one where I puked. I was five and got sick all over my dress. My parents whisked me away in a taxi before the reception.
- The one where I was a flower girl. My super cool, magic-trick wielding, motorcycle-riding cousin was getting married to a gorgeous lady who sported leather jackets. (They're still together, and still cool). I vividly remember trying on the peach satin dress with white lace overlay and later pairing it with a gigantic white flower & streamer headband.
The one at the Faire. Renaissance theme in the woods around Tahoe, family I'd forgotten, and my mom glaring at my grandma for dancing too close to younger men. I don't remember much else, but I kept the program in an old photobook.
- The shotgun. My high school bestie and his wife-to-be started their family very, very early. I was a groomsman (woman?), wore a vest, and lent my skirt to a bridesmaid (in favor of pants). It rained the best kind of rain at the reception (big, warm droplets). I ate nacho cheese from a crockpot and danced outside.
- The other cousins. Swanky country club, swanky Greek Orthodox ceremony, not so swanky wrap dress from Target.
- The one with bees. I ----ing hate bees. My boyfriend at the time took me as a date to his friends' wedding. They had rotten-tasting champagne in mini bottles marked with the names of the bride and groom. I wore a stretchy lavender floral dress.
- The one with garters. I was feeling adventurous, so I put on a black wrap dress and thigh high stockings held up by garters. My date was the same as before, and this again was his friends' wedding. I knew no one and the mother of the bride glared at me and my stockings.
- The one with a new friend. Three weddings in one summer and again it was my boyfriend's friends. This time I ended up becoming forever friends with the bride. She is brilliant and funny. Every table had a camera, so I snapped silly shots of people I hardly knew. Can't for the life of me remember what I wore.
- The one with an old friend. Up to Montana from Colorado to see another high school bestie marry a gal from our rival high school. I'd dyed my hair red, wore all black, and sang at a Catholic ceremony. It was lovely seeing all of the old crew from high school - far enough out that we had plenty of news, but not so long that we'd lost the closeness.
- The one in the mountains. Up to Big Sky for a serene and gorgeous mountain ceremony. The black wrap dress came out again and my latest boyfriend met a man who was actually named Bubba. Who does that to their children?
- The one in the backyard. Overcrowded, Christmas lights, and a marriage that lasted a year. Oh, yes, black. Wrap. Dress.
- The sweetest one. My favoritest cousins, an aunt, and my favorite set of wedding vows. "Til life or love leaves us." I wore a long black maxi dress, burgundy cardigan, and red kitten heels. Ooooh, and the gluten-free cake: AMAZING.
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