So my sister is getting hitched again, and I wish her all the happiness in the world.
As far as I can tell, this time around isn’t going to the same extravaganza as last time, but it’s nowhere near my laid-back backyard wedding on the casualness scale.
But time is growing short, and we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty planning stages. She sent an email, saying that she ordered the bride’s maid’s dresses, describing them briefly . . . sounds nice until we get to the part where she lets me know that it’s strapless.
Oy fucking vey. How the hell am I supposed to tan for strapless at this point in the summer? I anticipated sleeveless, and managed to avoid my usual farmer tan, but fucking strapless? My arms are dark, and, because I’ve been wearing tanktops, my shoulders are white. She thinks nothing of nipping off for the tanning salon for that kind of thing, but I’ve never been in a tanning bed, and honestly, I don’t really want to try. Tan in a bottle? Uh, I think not. Last thing I need to do is turn myself some unnatural chemical color so I feel like even more of a freak. So, what, next three sunny days, I have to blow off work so I can bake out in the yard in a tube top?
At least I already have a decent strapless bra.
Next: fun fun fun. She tells me that she and her fiance would like me to read something for the wedding. They can’t decide what they want people to read, so they’re sending a list of bibilical passages, prayers, poems, and short readings, and I am to pick two, in case two people pick the same, and then eventually they’ll let me know what I will be reading.
Uhhhh, okay.
First off, my dear sister, since you have known me for so long, you might have picked up by this point that I am a freakin’ atheist, and as such I would sooner perform a root canal on myself during the service than read from scripture or–Christ on a pogo stick–say a prayer.
But, fine, upon rereading I saw that the email was not addressed to me personally but sent to a bunch of people (BCC’d, apparently), so I skipped over the religious ones (the usual suspects, “whither thou goest” from Ruth, “Love is freakin’ patient, love is freakin’ kind,” carefully removed from context so that yer average bonehead who doesn’t bother to read the Bible won’t notice that they actually have nothing to do with romatic love between a husband and wife . . . but I digress) and read the poetry an other stuff they’ve selected.
Oh, dear merciful Og. Barf. Puke! Retch. GAG
They vary from the merely cloying to the sort of thing to which my grandfather, a diabetic, should definitely not be exposed; from the merely clunky to the outright ungrammatical (to which no one should be exposed). Most of it sounds like it came out of self-help books, for the love of Mike. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m betting that they all came out of a book or books on planning your wedding or sheets of Xeroxes from the pastor’s File o’ Wedding Readings.
I am seriously considering the reading from Ruth. At least that qualifies as literature, and I can picture myself reading it with a straight face–though I think I would demand to read the RSV passage, instead of the ‘whither thou goest’ of the KJV. (Inclusion of “thou” automatically make a quote more godly, doesn’t it?)
I am probably more ticked off about this than I should be, but right at the moment I’m annoyed as heck. Of course I’ll settle on the two least odious passages, and I’ll wear the stupid dress, hopefully without displaying any unattractive tan lines, I’ll do my best to look all pretty and smile and read whatever is assigned to me, and my sister will have the lovely wedding she wants, but thank god for the internet so I don’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic for a few months.
sigh I guess that her way is typical, and my wedding was just weird because I let people wear what they wanted, and I invited our readers to chose something on their own, rather than making them mouthpeices for a bunch of impersonal “love is a blooming flower / more beautiful every hour” tripe. [That is a pastiche, not a direct quote.]
Hell, I’m probably being uncharitable. Now that I think about it, she probably chose some more secular stuff with me in mind. Wah, I am a terrible sister.