A wedding story
t's official: I'm going to elope.
Not just yet, of course. But I've decided that if I do one day find Mr. Right, he and I will forego the normal wedding arrangements and just hop on a plane.
Because this past weekend, I found out just how hectic and exhausting a wedding can be.
And I was just the maid of honor.
This past Saturday was the happiest day of my best friend Jenny's life — she got married. But before the ceremony and the reception were three hectic days of preparation that left me exhausted but exhilarated.
Here's a brief overview of my weekend in Topeka.
Friday, 10 a.m.: We're at a small bridal shop somewhere in the middle of town, and Jenny is looking for a veil. Which she hasn't bought yet. And the wedding is tomorrow.
Thankfully, she soon finds one she likes, and we're out the door in 30 minutes.
12:30 p.m. Chrissy and Daphne, the other two bridesmaids, are at the nail salon, going through the ever-girly ritual of pre-wedding manicures.
Jenny and I head for Kansas Rental, where we face the daunting task of transporting one ten-foot tall plastic arch, one three-foot tall water fountain, two benches, three immense candle holders, and an assortment of pillars and trays — all of which Jenny had planned to move in her Pontiac Bonneville.
It's not going to happen. She decides to fork over the $25 delivery fee instead.
2:30 p.m. — It's my turn at the nail place, and I'm now, literally, in the hands of a man wearing a surgical mask while strange chemical smells pervade the air. He attaches long white plastic things to the tips of my fingernails — and in an hour, I have a glamorous French manicure.
The problem? I haven't had long nails in more than ten years, and they're sort of difficult to adjust to. The next morning, I end up trimming half of my thumb nails; after all, I would like to be able to dress myself.
One thing I know for sure: if my cello teacher saw my hands, she'd kill me.
8 p.m.: We're at the wedding rehearsal now, and the wedding coordinator Rachel reminds me of a very important maid of honor duty: floofing the wedding dress. Since half of the audience will spend the ceremony staring at the bride's back, the train's got to look good.
Always a flexible maid, I agree to the responsibility.
Saturday, 1 p.m. — Today's the big day! After a morning of helping decorate the reception hall, I head through Topeka traffic — again — to the J.C. Penney's on Wanamaker for my hair appointment. Prom is tonight for many schools, so half of Topeka's female population is already there.
I've never had my hair professionally styled before, so I'm excited to be in the capable hands of two stylists. They work their magic and create an up-do of sleek curls that seems, to me, sky-high. They assure me it isn't — but when I slide into my car, my hair hits the ceiling.
4:30 p.m. The ceremony is underway, and two thoughts are predominant in my mind. No. 1: These shoes are killing me. No. 2: Please don't let me cry too much in front of everybody.
8:30 p.m. It's all over. Most of the guests have cleared the reception area, and storm clouds are starting to roll in once again over Lake Shawnee. But it was a beautiful evening in our lodge by the lake.
I only cried a little, during the songs, and the gorgeous silver heels I'd been wearing aren't so bad if you take them off for awhile. I'm tired of being in pictures that are supposed to be spontaneous while they are, in fact, being completely staged, and I wish I had more time to visit with friends.
While we clear the tables of candles and flowers, I'm exhausted, but happy.
Sunday, 12:30 a.m. — I'm sitting in Chrissy's hotel room, which she's sharing with her sister Kelle and best friend Laura. Bridesmaid Daphne is also there. We discuss the day's events over bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
It's been a weekend I'll never forget.
— JENNIFER WILSON
