They gave me the poem a few weeks before the wedding. The only problem was, that the poem was talking about...well.... having sex. I definitely don't have any problem with talking about sex, partaking in sex, watching sex, anything about sex really, but when it comes to my cousin and his wife to be, I felt a little perturbed.
I visualise most things. It's how I learn. I am a visual learner. Being able to visualise things is fantastic, when applied correctly...
|Please Johnny, go faster...|
Laying on the beach in some far off hot sunny country.
Johnny Depp... ermmmm....popping round for tea... (or something similar).
Being on stage in front of millions of adoring fans because I AM the coolest, most talented chick in the music industry.
I struggled with the images of my own, cuddly, lovely, caring cousin, fucking his wife to be... and to add to this, the poem contained words such as 'breast' in it. Which again, I usually have no issue with.
|Apparently, the best breasts in |
I like breasts. I have two of them. They are my best assets. I like other breasts that don't belong to me. I often look at the breasts that don't belong to me. I dream about having perfect breasts. About those belonging to Jessica Simpson. But I didn't want to be thinking about any of this when reading the poem on my cousins wedding day.... mainly because I know that I would indeed look at the breasts of my cousins wife to be. Slightly inappropriate on their wedding day standing in front of an audience.
I rather stupidly discussed my issues with my other younger cousin and sister. They found this highly amusing and laughed every time I read the word 'breast'. This was not good. How very fucking mature of them.
I did, however, stand up on the day, look defiantly at the registrar (her breasts were not on display) rather than either the bride or groom, or any of the other 60 guests sitting staring at me and read the poem. I sat down sweating an unusual amount and swore to myself that I would NEVER, EVER be an important part of another wedding.
So that lasted all of one year. I was asked to be a bridesmaid AND do another reading. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. How can I say no. I really really did not want to do either.
Now, I want you all to imagine the worst possible thing that could happen to you as a bridesmaid.
Are you thinking about it....???
The last thing I remember being told, as I was linking arms with the other bridesmaid, was 'mind the little step down into the room'. Blah, blah, blah....
Oh, how I wished I HAD minded the little fucking step down into the fucking great big room full of fucking people looking at the bridal party.
With a little noise, which I can only describe as a cross between a monkey's mating call and a peacock, (seriously) I fell down that little bloody step, and landed on all fours... in the aisle, behind the bride, and nearly took the other bridesmaid with me. She obviously managed to stay on her feet (what a BITCH).
EVERYONE, and I mean ALL 100 guests, the registrar, the bride, and all the fucking hotel staff, turned and looked at me.
If you have ever wanted to die, that would have been a perfect time.
I then did what any other IDIOT FUCKING BRIDESMAID would do, which is stand up, thank everyone, wave a little, tell them I was ok, then proceed to laugh uncontrollably for the entire ceremony. I wasn't alone with uncontrollable laughter, this applied to most of the guests and the bride and groom.
You would have thought that would have been more than enough, but no. I then had to stand up half way through the ceremony and come face to face with all those people that had just witnessed me acting like a drunken baboon on nitrous oxide. I had to do the reading...
My opening line was 'now let's hope this reading goes somewhat differently from my walk up the aisle.'
It was a great recovery from utter despair. Everyone loved me! Now, that's how you up stage a bride on her wedding day!
|More wine please|
By the way, the bride and groom actually thanked me for my 'display'. They said it helped to break the ice and it was the best thing that could have happened, as it was all a bit tense before that.
I am inclined not to believe them or to agree with it being 'the best thing that could have happened'.
And NO... no one caught it on video or camera. Not even the two cocky, male professional photographers, that started to fuck me right off. There was no You Tube'ing of me at all.