Almost Late for The Wedding
Last Sunday, Craig and I were almost late for the the wedding of his second cousin. I’m not sure how we made the guest list since it was a pretty intimate celebration and I have only met the bride a couple of times. Craig also didn’t know how to spell her name when I was looking up her registry online, but as we’ve established that doesn’t mean he hasn’t slept with her.
The wedding was at 3:00 on a Sunday which was obviously code for eat first and BYOB, but we showed up hungry and sober because we were late. I take responsibility for being late to the wedding because I never give myself enough buffer time for things like letting my nails dry or dressing my husband. Craig may only take 30 seconds to get ready, but if I haven’t picked out and ironed a shirt for him to wear, he will wear his best pocket T.
Somehow I lost track of time and it was 1:45. We needed to leave our house no later than 2:00. The kids were still napping, Craig still needed to shower and I had just gotten out. In Craig’s defense, he is always on time and thought the wedding started at 3:30. I started panicking and barking orders when I realized we were running so late.
After an expletive laden shower, Craig got dressed and assisted getting the kiddos ready while I threw on my make-up. In order to save time and avoid getting make-up on my dress, I asked Craig to help me put it on over my head.
This is the part of a horror movie where you scream at the girl that gets axed in the first scene, you moron because you can see already that this is going to end badly.
On the first try, he put my head through the side zipper of my dress. If I weren’t so late, I would have taken pictures because even panicked, it was kind of funny.
The hard part was getting my head out of the side zipper without further messing up my make-up and getting on the dress which is why I requested the personal dresser in the first place.
I started to get agitated, but tried to remain calm because I needed his help to get out and I felt claustrophobic. He kept claiming innocently repeating, “I didn’t know.”
Seriously, he didn’t know that my head didn’t go through the SIDE OF THE DRESS? This is a picture of the dress. I have sex with this man on a semi-regular basis and his hole confusion was a bit disconcerting.
Attempt two was a tag team effort in which I was feeling really rushed because we were already late for the wedding if we would have left 5 minutes ago and now I had to fix my make-up. I grabbed the dress and told him where to hold it and where my head went. I take no responsibility, but somehow my fat head ended up through the armhole instead of the head hole. No wonder this voodoo dress was on sale.
At this point I was sweating, beyond late for the wedding, and I was ready to go naked.
Finally, on the third attempt, the right limbs went in the right holes. Miraculously, without a trace of make-up on the dress at least. My face didn’t fare so well.
The red lipstick I was wearing was now streaked across my face from lip to cheekbone. You don’t get a mulligan with red lipstick either. It’s a one shot deal. I also had no time. I assessed the damage in the car and did the best and just decided lipstick a full inch above my lip line was just going to have to work for me.
Then I looked over at Craig who didn’t escape unscathed. He had a wad of toilet paper hanging out of his ear and then I had a flashback to all the swearing I heard earlier that was coming from the shower.
Made it to the Wedding
We were running so late for the wedding, we talked my folks into meeting us in the parking lot so we could ditch the kids in time to sneak in the back before the ceremony started.
My expectations for a Sunday afternoon wedding weren’t high in the first place. The ceremony was lovely, but I was hoping for at least a no-host bar or a swig of cough medicine. If it were a wedding on my side of the family, things are immediately calming after you get your contact high from giving your requisite hugs hello.
At least the ceremony was short and sweet. Lasting less time than I was stuck in the armpit of my dress.
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