Wedding Blues

Traditionally, attending a dear friend’s wedding is one of the best times in our young lives, and it should be is such an honor to be a part of the bridal party. Not only do we get to see one of the people that we love most dedicate their life to someone who promises to love them even when they’re dead broke and dying of disease, we usually get to catch up with old friends. This is especially true for me since most of my childhood friends are in California. However, I am not looking forward to this at all. Sure, once I get there, I’ll be able to enjoy myself and let the spirit of the event take me away, but right now……Ain’t. Feelin. It. I’ve learned that I’m not alone in the world with having these sentiments.

Some people would rather not attend weddings, because you may have to deal with a Bridezilla. ESPECIALLY if you’re one of the bridesmaids. The bridesmaids are responsible for planning the bachelorette party, making favors, and basically making sure that the bride-to-be hasn’t a care in the world. Luckily for me, my pal that’s getting hitched is relatively sane, and doesn’t depend on her bridal party to do most things, because well, let’s face it……she has nigga friends. As such, taming a Bridezilla is the least of my worries.

Others have wedding phobia because they don’t have a date. For some women, going to a wedding without a date is like going to Prom without a date. Which for me, means absolutely nothing because I didn’t have a prom date. Anyone who knows me knows that I can fly solo almost anywhere I go without feeling insecure or dependent upon the company of another. This includes bars, movies, restaurants, the park, the beach, and weddings.

It isn’t far fetched for the bridal party to object to the choice in bridesmaid dress. In fact, I’ve seen some pretty ugly dresses in some pretty ugly colors. The cold part about it is that you have to pay at least $100 for an ugly ass dress that you’re never going to wear again. Personally, I think that the dress selection for this particular affair is going to give me the glow of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. And yet, the dress with turtle-power is still not the reason I’d rather not attend.

None of these are an issue for me. The reason I know I will be miserable at this exchange of nuptials is because I feel like I’m pregnant with the starting lineup for the muckinluva Lakers. That’s right, that Mother Nature bitch is here.  TMI? So what, stop reading. On a slightly unrelated note, I really hate when people refer to my current state as “My special friend” or “Aunt Flo” or “Visitor”. Stop that! This is no friend, family member, or anyone that I would ever welcome in my home for sweet potato pie and a game of Taboo. Those people would never torture me and put me through so much suffering and agony for 84-108 days out of the year. Let’s stop sugar-coating it to make it pleasing to the ear and call this what it really is. Mother Nature is a bitch with an agenda. I digress. So thanks to this bitch, (and I do mean bitch with every bit of passion and conviction that I can muster up) I get to be the big bloated cow at the wedding with breasts the size of casaba melons and cramps that feel like the LAPD is tazing my lower abdomen. Perfect. And to add insult to injury, this wedding is outside. In July. In Southern California. In these conditions, comfort is a distant memory, and I am now forced to embrace misery.

Some might advise me to start using oral contraceptives to aid me with my ailment, but those are no longer an option for me. That shit ain’t natural. I don’t want no parts of anything that’s going to alter the state of my already-fucked-up hormones and give me heart problems with a side of cancer later in life. I’ll take the road that doesn’t lead to sudden death, thank you. I’m all for many things that will help you cope with the things that your body does, but BC isn’t one of them. That shit will kill you, son.

When it all comes down to it, I know I’m being over-dramatic, and I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. I absolutely love and treasure my friendship with the bride-to-be, as I don’t keep very many friends for reasons I’m sure you can guess if you really know me. I wish she and her new hubby nothing but the best in life and all the happiness that their hearts and hands can hold. But right now, I just need for someone to give me a blow to the head with a bottle of my favorite vodka. Please just put me out of my misery!!!!!

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