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The Bridesmaid Bitch

Life's a Bitch, then you become a bridesmaid

Another happy couple…

I’m a bridesmaid bitch, it’s as simple as that.

I’ve been in seven weddings since 2002: six as a bridesmaid, and one as the maid of honor. I loved all the brides and cried and kissed them tearfully on their glowing white day. I also stomped, swore and swilled on Seagrams and triple sec from the frustration of their very existence.

Weddings. I love ‘em like I love the summer, this is true. Like the beach sand that sticks betwixt my toes however, these weddings make me want to take a shower and revel at how my sunscreen failed and now I’m just badly burned.

From these 7 ceremonies, I’ve spent about $5000.00. 5 Grand! Each time someone asks me to be in their wedding, I dole out a fierce hug and squeeze the bride to a near death. Shame on me, I know. Oh, and there’s the friend who’s been married twice and almost a thrice time. (I bought the bridesmaid dress and shoes, gave her a bridal gift, attended her bachelorette, then she called the wedding off). Damn women’s lib!

To some, I just sound like another jealous un-married 30-something chick. To you, I give a toast for coming up with the easiest solution to my tirade. Way to go brainy, I can give good toasts anyway. You think that maybe, just maybe there’s something valid about my upsetted writing?

Why can’t I just see how blessed I am to have friends who think I’m amazing enough to be a part of their special day? Guy, why am I such a cock-face, selfish butt-head?! Do I want an “I’m 31 and have no children” gift? Yes! How about a “Congratulations, you haven’t f*cked up your current relationship-ette” party? Call for a table of ten!

I told Nina (last childhood friend standing) that I have one more wedding left in me, and it’s reserved for her. I’m not even sure I have energy for my own wedding. I’m getting mad at the fact that because I didn’t find my Romero ten years ago, everyone in my life will be just as pissed as I am when it’s my turn. Who wants a room full of lightening eyebrows on angry faces staring back at them, thinking, “geez it’s about time, what’s she like, 53 years old now?”.

So, the early bird gets the worm, isn’t that what we’ve been taught? The brides in their early 20’s had it made. We readily accepted their bridal party invite, stepping in to pretty gowns and encircling the bride’s every step with our own giggling mindlessness. Money mattered not, for we were just learning how to be in debt. Ten years have gone by now and I just pray the next person who asks me to be in their wedding is seriously contemplating the casual backyard BBQ. I’ll turn the veggie skewers. Maybe.

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