Sunday, August 27, 2006

A Maid Of Honor Scorned



This is from the new excerpt of my second book, The Newlywed and Bridezilla. I drew inspiration from the bridal shower this weekend. Is it true? Did I make this up? That's for you to decide......

I never asked to plan a bridal shower. Had I realized agreeing to be Isa's maid of honor would have me in chains of obligations for a year, I would have fun like hell. Planning parties is one of my favorite things to do. When I volunteer. When I was told I had to have a shower for Isa because of 'tradition', I rebelled.

Now, I am not unkind. I would have happily offered to throw Isa a shower. And I did offer. Out of love and sense of duty, I offered to throw her a shower at my mothers in Austin. I said we would have cake and punch, and it would be a lovely, simple affair. She could invite ten friends and it would be loads of fun.

Isa haughtily informed me she had four showers planned already. The church was throwing her a shower, a family friend was throwing her a shower, an aunt was throwing her a shower, and her cousins were throwing her a lingerie shower. Of course, her friends were having a bachellorette party for her as well.

I nearly jumped for joy. I tried to back out gracefully, saying since she had so many showers I would bail out. No such luck. She fought with me for a month over the shower. First, the date. Second, the amount of people. My mom said 15, Isa wanted 50. Finally, I succeeded in backing out. I was told to assist the bridesmaid cousins with the lingerie shower.

And that's where all the trouble started. Weeks went by before I was ever contacted by the other bridesmaids. The only thing I knew was that the shower would be August 26th. What follows is the agonizing tale of the bridal shower from hel.

Wednesday, August 22

After months of silence, one bridesmaid called me today.

"Can you bring the cake?" she asked. "We're buying all the plates and decorations."

"Ok," I said, wondering why the out of town person was bringing the cake. I was already irritated they called me three days before the shower demanding crap, and now I had to buy a cake.

"Also, can you plan games?" she asked.

"What kind of games?" I said wearily. I despise games.

"Well, we don't know of any," she said, sounding bored. "Isa said you're creative."

"I bet she did," I muttered. "Well there's the Wedding Dress game where you dress them up in toilet paper- we could do a lingerie version. "

"Also, we wanted a trivia game," she commanded. "So call David up and make the game. You could giv them prizes or something."

"Fine," I muttered. I hung up the phone and spent the rest of the day in a rage. This was already looking bad. For me just "helping", these other bridesmaids were demanding an awful lot. Especially three days before the shower. I really hoped Isa was worth all this. I was starting to doubt it.

Friday August 25

In a burst of creativity, I took two boxes of cake mix and made four round cakes. I staked one on top of the other and I had two large circles. It was a bra cake. After icing it and putting blue polka dots, I covered it up with a trash bag. The cake was so big I couldn't put it in the fridge. I figured the trash bag would help it last until the morning.

Midnight

The bra cake, a white cake speckled with blue dots, in a sweet blue and white polka dot bra, has congealed into an unslightly mess. The polka dots now decorated the top of the trash bag and slid down around the sides of the cake. The top of the cake looked raw and gooey from the icing soaking into it. It was a sugary, disgusting mess. I almost cried.

Ben was not happy about the state of the cake. He was petrified that the sugary mess that was collapsing into itself would attract every aunt into the county. So at 1 a.m., the cake went into the dumpster.

tomorrow morning, we're driving down to Austin for a 9:30 hair appointment for Isa and I to get our hair highlighted. Then I have to buy a cake, get Isa's bridesmaid's dress altered, and go to this bridal shower where Isa has invited 40 people. At every shower, fifty people have showed up. It's going to be a sleepless night!

Saturday, August 26

The shower from hell arrived. After a whirlwind of activity, I had a new cake, a altered dress and a fresh haircut and highlights. I felt rejuvenated as I drove to Bridesmaid #1's house. I got out and rang the doorbell, holding bags and a cake. Isa opened the door, squealing in delight. "Oh you brought me a cake!" she beamed. "Well, I'd made a cake in the shape of a bra but it didn't turn out," I said, setting things down on the table. The other bridesmaids greeted me as the set up the table with plates and silverware for the cake.

I walked around the living room a little bit and looked around. The drab walls were covered in pictures. As I examined the photographs closer, I noticed they were all focused on Bridesmaid #2, the owner of the house. Pictures with her husband were centered on her. Photos were framed where her husband was on the side of the picture or where his face was blurry. She remained perfect and centered in every single picture. The wedding pictures focused on her face: head thrown back in laughter, detailing on her dress. It was a bit eerie. A enormous bridal portrait hung over the fireplace, her eyes staring down at everyone. Another portrait hung in the entertainment center.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. Isa's family was as narcassitic and self centered as she was! This girl had been married for five years, and had her entire living room devoted to pictures of her wedding. I became very concerned for my safety. Had I entered a cult devoted to weddings?

The shower only became weirder. As guests trickled in, I was suddenly aware that every dork, nerd and geek I'd known in high school had turned up. The color guard captain I despised blew in with several ex color guard members. The cross eyed girl with a lisp from band brought some freshly made dip, which seemed dubious at best. The good girls from church, the chess nerds and the girls that never made the cheerleading team poured in. I developed a twitch in my eye.

Boy, did I work it. I was loud, charming and fun. I lead them in the wedding lingerie game and thrilled them with "Pin the bow on the bacelor." After a riveting couple trivia game where I threw candy at girls who got the answers right, I plopped down exhausted. The other bridesmaids, who had been sitting while I performed like a dancing monkey, began to pass out cake. I chewed my apple and sat.

Isa was eating it up. I watched her tiredly. She had squealed, blushed and soaked up every bit of attention all afternoon. I checked my watch. 4:30. I could bail in thirty minutes.

"So where are we going for my bachellorette party?" Isa said coyly, ignoring me. She was mad at me for not being able to go.

"Downtown!" one of twenty girls squealed. "Bar hopping!" another shouted. "Strippers!" a flannel shirt and boots girl demanded in a deep voice. I wondered which kind of strip club she meant.

As Isa sat grinning, she demanded, "We need to buy me a veil! I don't have a veil. That way when I go downtown, everyone will see I'm a bride! I need all the attention I can get!"

"We didn't buy you a veil," Bridesmaid #1 said.

"Well you should have," Isa said coyly. She turned and glared at me. "That was your job."

"Screw you," I muttered. "What?" Isa said sharply. "Nothing!" I said, streching my cheeks till they hurt. 25 more minutes of bridal hell.

After enduring the drudgery of paying attention and recording the gifts she got, I was done. While the guests chattered in the living room, I was gathering my stuff when Bridesmaid#2 came up to me.

"Before you leave, we need to split the costs of this party three ways," she said.

I stared at her.

"What?" was my eloquent reply.

"We need to split the cost of the party three ways," she said, staring at me with a cold glint in her eye. "You need to share to costs of decorations."

The rage boiled inside me. I stared at her gleaming white teeth and her long blonde hair. If I hit right, I could break her perfect nose.

"I do believe this was ya'lls shower," I said calmly, looking for a knife. "I was merely helping out. I provided the cake and games. "

"Well, you need to help out," she informed me. "You owe us money for decorations and the invitations."

I turned around and walked out. I called Ben and waited until he picked up.

"Hello?" he said.

"These tacky bridesmaids want me to pay for a third of this shit!" I yelled, my face bright red.
"They have told me that I owe them money. This is the tackiest thing I have ever seen in my life. I'm so angry I just want to slap her!"

"How much?" Ben asked angrily.
'
"I don't know. They went to go configure it."

Ben sighed wearily. "Find out how much it is and call me back," he said.

"NOOO!" I sputtered. " This is wrong! You don't plan a party behind my back and ask me to foot a third of the bill! That's like inviting someone to dinner and handing them the check. This is classless and tasteless! These two bitches in there need to learn some manners. They hosted this party. I stood up there for two hours and entertained my worst nemesis from high school. They sat on their butt and did nothing. They can kiss my ass, and that's what I'm going to tell them." I sat there, breathing heavily.

"Find out how much it is. If it's ten bucks, give it to them with a smile. Just call me back," he said. "Just because they don't have class doesn't mean you don't have to. "

I glared at the phone and hung it up. I wanted to kill them. I was so angry I couldn't think straight. I walked back in the house and stared at Isa surrounded by her admirers. She stuck her tongue out at me and continued to talk. I thought about ripping her tongue out. A hand touched my shoulder and I turned slowly.

Bridesmaid #2 was staring at me with a look of condensation. "You owe us $15," she said.

"I don't owe you a thing," I said. So much for class.

She sighed. "Listen," she said, "As a co-host, you have to split the cost of this shower."

"As I recall," I said, "Ya'll hosted this shower and gave me orders. It's a free country and I didn't agree to give you a dime. I'm not going to either." Isa and her friends quieted down and stared at us.

"Listen," she hissed, the smile dropping from her face. "Pay up." The narcassistic bridesmaid from hell looked close to breathing fire from her nose onto her self devoted shrine of photos. I grabbed one and held it an inch from her nose.

"Listen," I hissed, getting in her face. "You're a bitch. You are a tacky, white class scum of the Earth. How dare you invite someone into your home and demand they pay for the occasion? You don't host an event and charge the guests, particularly when I entertained the entire party. I was the party."

I slapped ten dollars on the counter. "For my husband's sake, I will try and remind some dignity," I said, staring at her outraged grey eyes. "However, I see no reason in trying to have any sort of decorum around utter white trash. You're no better than a common hooker. After her wedding next week, I will never see you again."

Isa ran over.

"What is going on?" she hissed. "We're discussing my bachellorette party and you're ruining it. Just pay your share."

"So you agree with this," I said coldly.

"Miranda, you have no sense of wedding taste," Isa said, standing next to her cousin with a knowing look. "You seriously should read an etiquette book. First, you don't buy me a veil and buy me a grocery store cake. Then, you miss all four of my showers but this one. Now, you won't even go to my bachellorette party. You're a horrible maid of honor."

I stood there in shock. I stared at her small pug nose, her smug smile and eyes. Suddenly, she seemed ridiculous. This wedding was ridiculous. And I honestly did not care anymore.

"So be it," I said angrily, turning around and walking out. I got into my car and drove away, Isa angrily running down the street and shouting at me.

Next week is the wedding. After this, I am not speaking to Isa for a long time. Her evil minions and she can go live in Wedding Land. I'd rather go to hell.