I revel in watching the traditions of cultures. So I was tickled to be able to engage in my first live wedding. I was heartily excited because I could dress up; also, there was promise of free cake.
Beyond having a little heart tear work its way up, but not quite out, during the wedding, I thought about how mine would be different. I’ve spent many hours watching TLC and seen many an array of whimsical weddings. The best was the Halloween gothic wedding with a silver dress and the groom in cape. They asked everyone to come in their Halloween costumes. Therefore, they had Supergirl in attendance, and really, how many people can say that?
But watching this in live action is something else, especially with the tugging of the ovaries and such. I started mentally critiquing the wedding against one of mine own. J and I started to discuss the vow exchange and then the one doing the marrying, who is a friend of the groom. I could lie, but this following conversation was before we reached the wine.
“You know, I’d like someone official to marry me.”
“Official…huh. Well… what kind of person would be official?”
I thought briefly and fluttered my hands, “I don’t know, someone…someone…Gah! Someone that I don’t know for one.”
J cocked his head and we both took a second to realize the depth of probable fallacy in that statement. Sadly, I did not stop. “Oh, someone with a uniform. Robes. A title. Priestess Selena of the Vivacious Foxes or something.”
Not that this is an immediate threat, but I smell a Bridezilla lurking within.