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The Bridesmaid Countdown December 5, 2007

Posted by charmingbutsingle in Bridesmaiding, Friends, Listing is fun and easy, My family is sure I will never marry, Single Girl Cliches, Weddings.
18 comments

So The Bride (aka Best Friend Ever) and I were chatting the other night about getting into the Wedding Home Stretch. Though she’s had a snag or two, she seems relatively calm and ready. I’ve been busily making preparations of my own for her upcoming nuptials, as they are six(ish) weeks away.

The done:

  • Purchased plane ticket for upcoming bachelorette party
  • Arranged transport with Maid of Honor from airport to The Bride’s house for weekend of said party
  • Purchased dress (remember how fun THAT was?)
  • Scheduled pre-Christmas eyebrow waxing
  • Arranged hotel stay for wedding (will bunk with fellow bridesmaid First College Roommate)
  • Gained approval for days off from work for wedding festivities
  • Solved dry skin dilemma (I’m sure I’m jinxing myself, but I’ve been using Nivea Body Essentially Enriched lotion for “very dry, rough skin,” because we all know how I am about my elbows, and I am impressed.)
  • Located dress for Rehearsal Dinner (opted to wear Christmas party dress, as wedding is in January)
  • Scheduled hair appointment for the Wedding Day (fine, The Bride did that for us)
  • Google Mapped the hotel and reception locale
  • Grumbled each time I see the promos for “27 Dresses” (fine, it looks cute and I know I’ll see it because Katherine Heigl is my new girl crush)
  • Attended one shower
  • Purchased one shower gift

The undone:

  • Scheduled pre-wedding eyebrow waxing and mani/pedi
  • Purchased plane ticket for wedding (plans hinge on a family member)
  • Determined how to get a floor-length gown to fit into luggage suitable to be carried onto a plane without crushing and/or wrinkling said dress into oblivion, because after all I went though to get it, the damn thing is NOT getting checked so that the airline can lose it)
  • Purchased silver shoes for wedding
  • Assessed the bra situation with said dress (must make crucial halter v. strapless decision)
  • Purchased wedding present
  • Purchased gag gifts for bachelorette party
  • Returned RSVP card
  • Purchased teeth whitening strips for pre-wedding smile touch-up
  • Planned post-reception Wedding Party drinking extravaganza
  • Located lost digital camera

The not happening:

I’m sure I’m forgetting something that is very important that I’ll remember as I step onto the plane. Isn’t that how it goes?

There is one thing that I am dreading, putting off, probably never going to do. I am unsure how the toasts are working for the Rehearsal Dinner. I need to talk to the Maid of Honor about her plans, as it is improper for a bridesmaid to outdo the maid of honor. That, of course, is merely an excuse. I have no reason to believe that there is any problem with me offering a toast at the dinner.

I just don’t know what to say or how to put it or what words are right. And this is made more frustrating by the fact that I write, well, all of the time. By the fact that I am professional writer of things for other people to say. By the fact that, oh dear, The Bride often comments that “[Charming], you just have a way of putting things.”

Truth be told, there are a million things to say to the woman who most gets you on the occasion of her marriage. For the life of me, I can’t narrow it down to just one. And my eyes well up at the thought of it, so I’m putting this off until the end, or maybe not at all.

I have this inkling that in the moment, standing there with glass raised, I will pause and look at my best friend, sitting next to her future husband, surrounded by our friends and their families and the words will just come the way  the tears do now.

Hope Chest November 19, 2007

Posted by charmingbutsingle in Bridesmaiding, Cooking, Family, NaBloPoMo, Shopping, Single Girl Cliches, We Get It -- You're Stressed About Getting Old, Weddings, Women.
15 comments

I’ve been in maternal, homemaker mode for quite some time. At least, that’s the only explanation for how I’ve been acting. Doting over babies, sighing over little kids, heart leaping over wee Halloween costumes and cooking nonstop – double batches of my favorite spinach side dish are already frozen, waiting for Thanksgiving, right next to three loaves of pumpkin bread dotted with chocolate chips, made with pumpkin puree leftover from a glorious pan of pumpkin bread pudding (inspired by Smitten Kitchen, suggested new tagline: “I read Gourmet so you don’t have to.”).

On Saturday as I was browsing with Southern Belle, I came across a tiny black and pink plaid dress with a sparkly bow, suitable for baby’s first(ish) Christmas. As I ran the material between my fingers, I let out a dejected breath.

“This is the kind of thing I want to just buy and pack away for another day,” I said, placing the hanger back on the rack.

Southern Belle examined a metallic baby sweater dress and nodded, offering that she knew people who did that.

“Do you know someone you could buy it for?” she suggested.

I thought to myself that of course I couldn’t pack away baby clothes for another day – what would people think if they knew I was harboring booties and receiving blankets and rattles?

“No, I don’t know anyone with a little baby girl. Plus, I don’t need to buy a baby dress.”

“No?”

“Because then I’d be That Woman,” I said forcefully. “The one hoard baby clothes and packs them away for a rainy day when she is nowhere near having a baby. Not in a million years do I want to be her.”

And all of that lead me to wonder – is That Woman really that bad? It isn’t wrong to want something with all of your heart as long as you’re realistic about it. I’m always so worried about scaring guys off by saying I see children in my future or being seen as desperate or that one day I’ll die in a tragic high heel-related accident and when they come to clean out my apartment, they’ll say, “Look at this drawer full of baby stuff, right here next to all of this unfolded laundry and this pile of unopened mail in the room next to that messy kitchen with a refrigerator full of half-eaten takeout in boxes and a few stray beers. What a sad, sad lonely woman.”

I’m not sad and I’m not lonely and, well, I do really want kids. I used to declare that I wouldn’t even think about kids until later, when it was practical, when it wouldn’t interfere with my career, after I’d been to Italy and Thailand, when the world was less scary. And I wouldn’t manhunt with kids in mind.

And it isn’t practical now, as I have a few details yet to be filled in. And, yes, the world is still pretty big and far from perfect. But, damn it all, I like children and I’m here to tell you that actually having them is probably much less glamorous than I think it is when I’m making faces at a baby in the grocery store, but I don’t care.

So I’ll be That Woman. That Woman who tears up watching “Martian Child” and gets a lump in her throat over tiny baby shoes. I’ll be that woman who is looking for someone who also loves and wants kids, because, well, I’m never going to be happy with anyone who feels otherwise. And I realize that I have time and that some of this longing is caused by hormones with a splash of nerves about my impending 28th birthday, The Bride’s forthcoming nuptials, College Roommate’s future engagement, my brother’s to-be-set wedding date, next year’s 10 year high school reunion and far too many hours spent browsing wedding photos of casual acquaintances and classmates on Facebook.

But, no, I didn’t buy the dress. I mean, I don’t want to be That Woman today.

Give me at least another year to find the perfect storage system.

The (Long) Cautionary Tale of the Procrastinating Bridesmaid October 2, 2007

Posted by charmingbutsingle in Bridesmaiding, Friends, General Clumsiness and Related Stupidity, My family is sure I will never marry, Shopping, Weddings, Women.
33 comments

So, you know, being a bridesmaid comes with different responsibilities – throwing and attending showers and luncheons, organizing a bachelorette party, smiling while your friend dresses you in yards of brightly-colored fabric and taking many many many phone calls about lilies, no roses, no lilies, no gerbera daisies, no gardenias. Yes! Gardenias with gerbera daisies and calla lilies!

Ahem.

You see, a few weeks ago I was minding my own business, going about my day when I saw that I had a voicemail. It was Best Friend Ever, heretofore referred to as The Bride. Now, when you are a Bridesmaid and The Bride calls, you answer because The Bride is probably likely facing some sort of crisis relating to calligraphy or something that seems VERY important at the moment and, hell, because you didn’t answer the phone she had to handwrite all of the invitations herself because she just couldn’t make a decision without consulting 60 people first, right? Right.

The Bride’s message to me, in her Most Serious Bride Voice, was, “I need confirmation from you that you have your bridesmaid dress because it has been discontinued. Call me as soon as you get this.”

And so everyone knows what happens next. Of course I hadn’t ordered my dress yet. Of course I had procrastinated because buying a dress early for no good reason would be quite out of character for me. They have racks and racks of flowy dresses that coordinate, right? Buying a dress four months in advance seems overkill to someone who changes outfits three times before heading to meet friends for dinner.

To you procrastinating bridesmaids, I caution you: Do not put off buying your dress for even one moment. Stop reading, stand up and go to the bridal store right now and buy that dress.

Because, you see, the bridesmaid industry is a racket. You see aisles and aisles of dresses in every color and size and this lulls you into a false sense of security. What “they” don’t tell you is that there may come a moment when your particular dress will be discontinued. And sure, you’ll think, “Well, I bet I’m not the only who didn’t get the dress in time.”

But you will be wrong.

Back to The Bride’s Very Important Voicemail.

Because I am clearly the dumbest person in the world, I called The Bride on my cell while I had the Super Massive Chain Bridal Store on the other line on my Blackberry.

“Did you order you dress?” she said in a low and serious voice.

“Um, no, but I have [Super Massive Chain Bridal Store] on the other line.”

“YOU DIDN’T BUY THE DRESS!”

“It is being taken care of,” I said, in a voice as soothing as I could muster. “I promise, give me 10 minutes.”

Well, it didn’t take 10 minutes. In fact, it took many many minutes (ok, two hours) of phone calls to the Super Massive Chain Bridal Store about what color I needed and trying to remember which of the sizes I’d tried on had looked best and which style exactly it was.

And then The Bride called back.

“I cannot believe you didn’t order the dress.”

“I know, I know, I’m a terrible person. I’m working on it.”

“Do I need to treat you like a child?”

“Um, YES. Have you ever met me? I am the least reliable person you know.”

“[Charming!]”

“I have to go; I’m on hold with the dress store.”

So I finally got someone to tell me that my dress wasn’t here, but that it was in Florida. A nice man in Florida told me that the dress wasn’t there and I should go to my “home” Super Massive Chain Bridal Store and have someone there help me.

“Well, that’s a problem,” I said.

“A problem?”

“You see, my ‘home’ store isn’t exactly speaking to me because I might have accused them of ruining my best friend’s special day, so now when I call they just put me on hold for twenty minutes until I hang up and call back and they put me back on hold because they must have caller ID.”

And then he chuckled. And that chuckle told me all I needed to know – my “home” store wouldn’t be helping me because I’d become hysterical and they probably deal with dozens of hysterical people with actual complaints on a daily basis, so my sarcasm and anger over my own irresponsibility wasn’t going to win me any points.

Somehow, someway, someone told me that the dress might be in Pennsylvania. It was either that or eBay and I wasn’t seeing it on eBay. If I couldn’t find it online anywhere, I guessed I could buy a lighter color and have it dyed red. Not that anyone I talked to seemed to think this option was working.

Things were not looking good for the Procrastinating Bridesmaid. One well-meaning Super Massive Bridal Store employee suggested that I could wear a different dress in the same color that would “blend.” I stopped short of suggesting to her that she call The Bride to offer that suggestion herself.

Thankfully, after a few phone calls where I used my best Sweet Southern Belle Voice, I landed on a store that had it, in the right color, in the right size, on sale for $40.

In Pennsylvania.

“Can you come get it tonight?” asked the Salesgirl, who could only hold dresses until the close of business.

“Not so much,” I said, thinking of how much a plane trip to pick up my dress would cost.

So they mailed it me. And it arrived this week, perfect, in tact, ready for the big day (next year).

Of course, I still had to tell The Bride, who, amazingly, was not taking my phone calls on that fateful Friday night. And I don’t blame her for being mad – I had three months to order the dress and I didn’t. This crisis was my own damn fault and I wouldn’t have blamed her for debridesmaiding me in that instant. Planning a wedding is stressful and time-consuming and she had every right to assume that I would hold up my end of the bargain.

So I left her two voicemails, sent her two texts and called my Maid of Honor. The Bride responded with a sweet text later that evening and called me on Saturday, amused by the whole thing, especially since the very confused Maid of Honor (who of course ordered her dress on Day One) had also called her to relay the message.

The whole ordeal seems funny now, especially when I mimic the immature fit I pitched with the store, which definitely included me saying, “Oh, I don’t suppose you’ll take back five other dresses from five other people purchased at five different stores in five different states at five different times and just let us start over, now will you!”

The thought of disappointing my best friend made those two hours of frantic searching horrible. It’s symbolic of how I’ve been treating close friends lately. Poorly, to say the least. I get so self absorbed at times that I let things slip by. And meaningless deadlines aren’t so meaningless when you’re letting people down.

The up side? I saved more than $100 while simultaneously gathering tons of fodder for a toast at the rehearsal supper.