More from Mary
Another excerpt from our new pal Mary Griffith's book, Made of Honor. Keep thinking about entries for our contest and win an autographed copy of the book! (Click on contest above; there's an update to the post.)
From Made of Honor, by Mary Griffith
Chapter One, con't.
"Using my emergency x-ray vision (activated by squinting so hard I almost fused my contacts to my eyeballs) I glimpsed a pink satin horror similar to my own, but a set of three-inch shoulder pads blocked my view. Who would wear a power suit to a wedding-my boss. There she was, looking just as angry as when I'd left her at work last night. I ducked before she saw me, recovering from my shock that she'd even shown up. The bride, who left our office to start her own graphic design firm six months ago, insisted on inviting Naomi, her-former and my-current employer and Renee, my assistant, who was probably somewhere taking pictures of me for blackmail. She'd be giggling in my ear about this dress for the next month. At least.
My future torture aside, I was proud of Naomi for actually leaving the office (I think she secretly lives there). For her to show up at her own funeral would be the height of etiquette. Some people just don't grasp interaction, you know? And having "interacted" with Naomi daily for the past six years, I could do without her today. Besides, I needed to find Sassy Sistah #1 before she melted down and kissed somebody.
With that thought as fuel, I forced my Baker dyeables (those satin shoes that can be dyed to match your gown? I know. Prom flashbacks.) across the sprinkle of autumn leaves on the ground. Rochelle tiptoed up beside me, fanning her face, despite the growing chill. Man Mania was in full swing.
"Did you see Ryan's brother?" She said breathlessly. "From the looks of things, Tracey should have picked him."
From the reality of things. Anyone seemed a better choice. I mentally squashed the nagging doubt about my friend's hour-old marriage. Thoughts like that were getting me nowhere. It was done. God would have to take it from here. Me worrying myself to an ulcer before I got back to work on Monday was definitely a waste of resources.
I shook my head at Rochelle and considered reaching out and shaking hers. This time she was really in the zone. I spoke right into her ear, hoping it would jar her brain. "I wasn't really paying attention to the brother of the groom." Or any other man around here. What would be the point? The last guy I dated had just married my best friend.
Rochelle made a clucking sound. "You should have been paying attention. His brother is foine." She rolled her neck for effect, but didn't quite pull it off. I just stared. She'd been watching too much UPN again.
"Come on." I tugged at her arm and started back across the smattering of red-gold leaves, away from Mr. Foine. She'd hate me later if I didn't. If a brothah showed up tomorrow in response to Rochelle's flirting, she would run for her life while dictating a restraining order into her recorder.
Usually, her wedding trance would have been long since broken. But this was Tracey's wedding. And whether Rochelle and I were willing to admit it or not, we'd both thought that if anyone got married, it'd be one of the two of us, not the cute, fat, geek of the group. Not that Tracey was fat anymore. The plump-but-cute girl role was currently being played by moi. My midsection pressed against the strangling fabric of my dress as if in agreement."
Oh, this is funny, Mary. My sister-in-law made us wear red satin princess dresses. Cinched in at the waist, huge bell skirt. I am 5'2". And round. I've been the cute-but-plump girl most of my life. In this dress, I had perfect circumference. Put a green beret on my head, and I would have looked like a tomato. Anybody else have a horror story? Describe your dress if you dare.
From Made of Honor, by Mary Griffith
Chapter One, con't.
"Using my emergency x-ray vision (activated by squinting so hard I almost fused my contacts to my eyeballs) I glimpsed a pink satin horror similar to my own, but a set of three-inch shoulder pads blocked my view. Who would wear a power suit to a wedding-my boss. There she was, looking just as angry as when I'd left her at work last night. I ducked before she saw me, recovering from my shock that she'd even shown up. The bride, who left our office to start her own graphic design firm six months ago, insisted on inviting Naomi, her-former and my-current employer and Renee, my assistant, who was probably somewhere taking pictures of me for blackmail. She'd be giggling in my ear about this dress for the next month. At least.
My future torture aside, I was proud of Naomi for actually leaving the office (I think she secretly lives there). For her to show up at her own funeral would be the height of etiquette. Some people just don't grasp interaction, you know? And having "interacted" with Naomi daily for the past six years, I could do without her today. Besides, I needed to find Sassy Sistah #1 before she melted down and kissed somebody.
With that thought as fuel, I forced my Baker dyeables (those satin shoes that can be dyed to match your gown? I know. Prom flashbacks.) across the sprinkle of autumn leaves on the ground. Rochelle tiptoed up beside me, fanning her face, despite the growing chill. Man Mania was in full swing.
"Did you see Ryan's brother?" She said breathlessly. "From the looks of things, Tracey should have picked him."
From the reality of things. Anyone seemed a better choice. I mentally squashed the nagging doubt about my friend's hour-old marriage. Thoughts like that were getting me nowhere. It was done. God would have to take it from here. Me worrying myself to an ulcer before I got back to work on Monday was definitely a waste of resources.
I shook my head at Rochelle and considered reaching out and shaking hers. This time she was really in the zone. I spoke right into her ear, hoping it would jar her brain. "I wasn't really paying attention to the brother of the groom." Or any other man around here. What would be the point? The last guy I dated had just married my best friend.
Rochelle made a clucking sound. "You should have been paying attention. His brother is foine." She rolled her neck for effect, but didn't quite pull it off. I just stared. She'd been watching too much UPN again.
"Come on." I tugged at her arm and started back across the smattering of red-gold leaves, away from Mr. Foine. She'd hate me later if I didn't. If a brothah showed up tomorrow in response to Rochelle's flirting, she would run for her life while dictating a restraining order into her recorder.
Usually, her wedding trance would have been long since broken. But this was Tracey's wedding. And whether Rochelle and I were willing to admit it or not, we'd both thought that if anyone got married, it'd be one of the two of us, not the cute, fat, geek of the group. Not that Tracey was fat anymore. The plump-but-cute girl role was currently being played by moi. My midsection pressed against the strangling fabric of my dress as if in agreement."
Oh, this is funny, Mary. My sister-in-law made us wear red satin princess dresses. Cinched in at the waist, huge bell skirt. I am 5'2". And round. I've been the cute-but-plump girl most of my life. In this dress, I had perfect circumference. Put a green beret on my head, and I would have looked like a tomato. Anybody else have a horror story? Describe your dress if you dare.
posted by Robyn | 7:06 PM
8 Comments:
Oy...wedding horror stories...I've got a bunch. The worst was my aunt's wedding. I was asked to read scripture, so she bought me a dress. The first dress was gorgeous! It was the color of watermelon, which would have looked fantastic on all of us. We're all dark brunettes with tan skin and brown eyes. However, my other aunt put her foot down and said she wanted a different color.
We ended up wearing dresses that were this nasty peachy pink color & we all ended up looking like we had jaundice. Needless to say, in all the pics from the wedding I look like a pissed off jaundiced clown. (the makeup lady did my makeup with PINK makeup!) EW!!!!!
Kaitlin,
You poor baby. That sounds awful. Here, have some chocolate to help you get over the post-traumatic wedding stress.
Ha, ha, everyone! I just got my copy of Mary's book in the mail today and can't wait to start reading it. I will post a review, as I am sure Robyn will too, when we are done reading it. It looks like a scream. Neener, neener, neener, we get to read something you can't even buy yet. Sorry, I realize that is extremely juvenile, but I gotta take my jollies where I can. :)
p.s. anyone want a pissed off five month old girl? I am giving her away to the first person crazy enough, er, I mean, lucky enough to email me at whywontthischildquitcrying@myhairisturninggrayaswespeak.com.
Queen Ali asserting her will again, eh?
Rotfl, this book looks GREAT. I cannot wait to read, and think that it really stinks that you get to read it first, Missie!! GAH. I really dont have any wedding horror stories, aside from ones I'm told. Such as being three years old, and the flower girl in my uncle & new aunt's wedding. When I proudly announced throughout the church, after I'd high-tailed it up the aisle that I had to "pee pee."
They still laugh at me.
GAH.
Anyhow..I will not take a 5 mth old asserting her will. No no. Not this time.. sorry Charlie..I mean Missie. haha I'm busy potty training a 2 yr old & teaching a 4 yr old that purple is NOT the only color EVERYTHING has to be!
~Jo
Missie and Robyn, thanks for doing the contest and for the laughs. Your readers are as funny as you guys. A jaundiced pink clown... I can just see that.
Marilynn
Missie--nope, been there done that. She didn't sleep through the night until she was 10 freaking months old! I nearly sold her. :)
Cute excerpt!
I can't wait to read Mary's book! From all I've heard, it sounds great! :)
My girl sleeps through the night quite fine, from 10pm-10am, thank you very much, but while she is awake, she is a PILL! I am going to send her to obedience classes if she doesn't straighten up. ;)
Oops. Just had her asleep and she woke up for no good reason. Yay.
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