A Small Victory

you wear it so well

The wedding is now less than two weeks away. Still nothing to wear. We hit upon an idea the other day where we would have some kind of theme to the reception, allowing us to dress accordingly. We figured we still had time to call or email people and let them know it would be a costume party sort of thing. We were half kidding. Half kidding.

My father, the traditionalist that he is (and host of the party) blew a gasket. He said he doesn't care how the guests are dressed - it is a barbecue party after all - but that the bride and groom should look like, well, a bride and groom.

Aunt: It's your wedding, you should do it your way.
Me: No, he's letting us have it here, I'll do this part of it his way.
Aunt: Didn't you do it his way at your first wedding?
Me: If I did that one his way, the groom would have died in a hail of bullets before I got to say "I Do."

Well, we kept talking about themes anyhow. It kept us from thinking about the real issues at hand. We are both very good at avoidance.

70's theme: What fun. Everyone would dress like it was 1978. We discarded the idea when we realized there would be 25 John Travolta look-alikes who dragged their white polyster leisure suits out of the closet.

Rock -n- Roll Wedding: Everyone come dressed as your favorite rock star. Or your least favorite. Lots of beer drinking straight from the keg, fistfights, big hair and naked women. Justin would find one of those silly little schoolboy outfits and dress like Angus Young. Idea discarded out of fear that someone would impersonate Brian Jones and end up at the bottom of the pool.

Comic/Cartoon Theme: Come dressed as your favorite cartoon or comic book character. Sounded like fun until we fought over which one of us gets to dress like Optimus Prime.

Samurai wedding: We really liked this idea. We would end up looking something like this during the ceremony. We would have someone video tape the whole party and edit it with bad dubbing and goofy subtitles. The amount of children attending made us leary of having a party that involves sword fighting. But still, it would be cool to dress like that.

S&M wedding: I'd dress like a dominatrix. Justin would wear leather bondage. My family would disown me and the only people left at the party would be the few bloggers I invited, Bonnie and my brother-in-law. The rest would be home wishing they had the guts to admit they like that sort of stuff.

We came up with a few more things, most of them invovling Baz jumping out of a cake or Bonnie performing lap dances. I keep having to remind myself that a) this is a wedding, not an excuse to act like a heathen, and b) there will be children present.

So what now? Dear old dad is taking Justin out for a suit today (even though he already owns a smashing suit and looks like Mike Patton when he wears it) and knowing my Dad they will end up at Brooks Brothers and there goes the cash we were going to spend on the tequila fountain, and I...well I am still dressless and just a bit hopeless. Who's taking me shopping to complete my wedding ensemble? No one. I'm going to end up at Target the day before the wedding buying some $22 rag that's made out of terry cloth and clings in all the wrong places.

Avoidance, avoidance, thy power is mine. After work today, instead of going on a panic-induced dress buying spree, I'll be watching the Jets practice and then taking the kids to purchase hamsters. Has anyone seen that Hamtero show? Odd, very odd. It's like Pokemon for hamsters. I'm oddly drawn to it. Check out Penelope. She looks like Pikachu in drag.

Drag. Drag. YES! That's it! We'll have a "come in drag" wedding!

Ok, I'll stop. I'll get a dress. A real dress. It won't even be black. But I'm warning you. Ten minutes after that ceremony is finished and I'm officially the wife of the guy who's now dressed like a different incarnation of Mike Patton, I will be wearing exactly what I am wearing right now - boxers and a Rammstein t-shirt - until the final moments of the party, after all the kids are sleeping and everyone else is too drunk to care, and I'm dancing on the table in very little clothing. Or sleeping under said table.

Either way, I'll be married.