Stupid allergies constantly making my nose itchy and runny - I'm sometimes so clogged up I feel like a retard. It's been annoying me for a while now and none of the OTC drugs are doing what they promised, whatever those dancing-into-a-field-of-dandelions-ads want me to believe. Hmmmm.... this was supposed to somehow segway into the next topic, but I can't remember how.
I've lived most of my life without having to attend any weddings - my parents socialized mostly with people their age whose children are mostly younger. Being a first-gen fob, I didn't grow up going to families' weddings and generally lacked exposure to all things wedding-related. Interestingly, Quebec doesn't seem to have a strong wedding culture either as most people I know choose to common-law it or are engaged for a million years. The rest of them are still in school "figuring out life".
Ergo, in the pre-Toronto era of my adult life, I've only been to my sister's wedding. Apart from dressing the part, I was obviously the most clueless maid of honour ever... I think the lamp post at the front of the hall may have been more useful.
Suddenly turning into my late twenties and meeting V, I've got a myriads of weddings to go to as part of my girlfriend duties. All of them I attended as the remote-yet-slightly-amused bystander, the plus-one. A couple of churches and a temple. Speeches long and short, in English, in Chinese, in Hindi. Ubiquitous powerpoint presentations, endless Michael Bublé songs and marriage jokes. Food, glorious food, and drinks that rained.
The great thing being a random person is the lack of self-conciousness - there's a lot of room for food and drinks if you're strategic about it. And you get to spend all your time thinking of ways to get more of that (I usually figure out the middle of where hors-d'oeuvres come out and the bar, and station myself there), and generally act like a vulture because nobody knows who you are. Also, I guess if you are single or in a non-committal, weddings are decent places to meet people (that you never call again? haha). The not-so-cool part is the awkward "I have to figure out how to spell the bride's name when I sign in the photobook" moment. Or when you're sitting at the randoms' table and have to act like you care about your neighbour that you'll probably never meet again - worse than a bus ride, if you hate people like I do.
I got another one coming up this week-end. It'll be 2 hours of preparation, feeling fat in that gown-I-used-to-fit in (note that this doesn't stop me from finding the best way to stuff the most food in me, later on - it's about the principle), feeling inept while trying to do my hair (I have the hairdressing skills of a 3-year-old boy), bracing the street in that only pair of formal silky-but-oh-so-effing-uncomfortable shoes I have. I'll be ready to sit through another set of rituals, maybe with slight variation, of celebrating two people's union (ooh... aaah.... i do, i do, kiss the bride, sign that paper, tadaa you're husband and wife! and V starts wiping tears). I've braved the other ones, I'll brave this one, knowing that, *sigh*, at the end of the day, a party is a party is a party and a chance to look hawt (thank you spanx and wonderbra) and eat my heart out.
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