The Odd Broad

Burnt Toast

I love weddings.  Always have.  There wasn't much about my wedding that I can complain about.  I loved it.  Overall, I was overwhelmingly pleased with all but one or two minor details, the first being when our DJ took a break to sit down to dinner and elected to play a compilation cd of smooth 80's jazz.  Seeing as the music was one of the few things I had painstakingly slaved over, and each and every song had been a sentimental one, handpicked especially by Hubby and me, the smooth 80's jazz really came out of left field.  We had to put a stop to it!  And we did.  It was my one borderline Bridezilla moment, and I do not regret it.  As a matter of fact, the smooth jazz incident still sort of chaps my ass.

The only other mishap, if we're excluding the part when my cousin and Hubby's cousin very nearly came to drunken fisticuffs after the reception (good times!), had to have been the speech delivered by our best man, Mike.

Was it the myriad pot references that made Mike's toast such a festering, shit-scented, train wreck?  (I can still recall him mentioning something about "the smoke...and the haze...")

Or perhaps it could have been when he spoke the following: "Brian and Sarah met at the Berklee Cafeteria, and had relations shortly after."

Yes, he uttered those words in front of my GRANDMOTHER.  And Hubby's Grandmother and Grampy.  And the other 127 guests, I suppose, now that we're counting.  (Of course, I'm fairly certain Mike thinks the term relations actually means relationship.  But it doesn't.  Sadly.)

I had forgotten just how unfortunate it was, had likely blocked it all out, when a friend of a friend of ours was introduced to us and asked, "Oh my God!  Was it YOUR wedding where the Italian guy made that speech?"

It was.

I can't even tell you that this speech was the result of nerves or improvisation; no, it had been carefully written out, edited, even- with notes scribbled in the margins.  It was entirely premeditated, amazingly, which somehow makes the whole thing all the more disturbing.  (Originally I had been under the impression that this speech had been ad-libbed.  Not so.)

We never mentioned it to Mike.  Only once did I let it slip, some two years later, over a pitcher of beer(s) at the Bohemian Beer Garden.  I remember Mike's eyes widened in shock and it was then that I realized that he honestly believed he'd given a great speech.  I did my best to backtrack and tell him what a nice job he'd done, but by then it was way too late.  (Plus, I'd already mentioned to his fiance how the wedding planner told us the soups went cold due to the length of said speech.  Hiccup.  Woopsie.)

I was casually hoping for a little retribution last summer when Mike tied the knot in a lavish Long Island ceremony, but no dice.  No, his best man Anthony gave a sweet, heartwarming speech.  He did, of course, make mention that over 50% of all marriages end in divorce, and I suppose the room did go a little quiet, and Anthony did sort of cough and look embarrassed for a moment.  But that was his only misstep, and it was a mild one at that.  But still, it was enough to make me smile, deep in the caverns of my bitter little heart.

But Mike was and is our best man, and I often give him credit for bringing Hubby and I together in the first place.  If it wasn't for him, after all, we never would've met at the Berklee Cafe, twelve long years ago this Sunday; and we certainly never would have had relations shortly thereafter.  (Dear Lord, that last bit still makes me cringe.)

xoxo

Does this gown make me look full?

This Wednesday my husband and I are celebrating our nine year anniversary.  Well, not nine years of marriage, we've only been married for a year and four months.  So I guess one could say we spent the first seven years and six months of our relationship just having a good time.  Living in sin, like Jon Bon Jovi so poignantly sang about back in 1988.

Honestly, It really didn't occur to us to even think about marriage until we had been together for almost six years.  And then one day the idea just spontaneously occurred to me.  Then I gently suggested (nagged?  me?  never) until one day it spontaneously occurred to him.  My transformation was both awe-inspiring and immediate.  All of a sudden, overnight, I was a cow and getting milked for free!  Or, how did that saying go again?  He was buying the cheese without the crackers?  No, that's not right either... 

Plus, we had a child (ok, a cat) to consider now, our Kittie, and I longed to make her legit.

But alas, my cat and her legitimacy is not the focus of my story.  Instead I'd like to tell you about the day I tried on my wedding gown for the very first time.  A tale entitled: That time in the Bridal Shop when Ma called me fat.

I had found it.  The dress.  Actually, my beloved friend Amy gets the true credit for discovering it.  Much like my Mom, Dad and Sister get the credit for discovering the reception locale, photographer, the favors...let's just say this Odd Broad is enamored with the word delegate.  I believe delegating is the bride to be's dearest friend, her comrade, her pal.

Anyway, one afternoon Amy called me at work and told me she had found a dress.  "Sah, this dress is you, it even has a flower on it!"  I knew instantly which dress she was talking about.  I had seen it online and fallen in love with it, but I assumed it was too pricey and had therefore averted my eyes. (Look away from the computer screen!) 

But Amy was one step ahead of me.  No rookie to the world of everything bridal, she had already called RK Bridal and found that they sold the dress at an inconceivable discount!  Incidentally, RK Bridal is this huge warehouse of a Bridal shop in NY's Fashion District.  I feel as if I have spent considerable portions of my life at RK, feeling woozy, light-headed, enfeebled, seeing visions...Fabulous as it is, something about the store definitely makes me swoon.  In the same way as a child going to the wallpaper store with my Mom involuntarily made me need a lie down.  I weaken very easily.

So I was no stranger to RK Bridal.  In 2005, curiously close to the time of the spontaneous marriage idea, the Odd Broad was a bridesmaid three times within a span of 3 months.  Three red dresses, three different styles.  Sometimes I wear them around the house just for fun.  It's always entertaining to order takeout on a weeknight and answer the door wearing a strapless a-line gown, fuzzy slippers and a bathrobe, taking swiggs from a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill...  (I'm teasing, I've never done that!  No, honestly, you should try it, it's a good time.)

Back to RK Bridal.  Swoon-inducing or not, you cannot beat their prices, and they had my dress.  Break out the smelling salts, this broad was dress shopping!  Yee-haw.

The only glitch was that RK Bridal didn't have a sample of the dress for me to try on, but they could still order it for me at the discounted price.  So now all we needed to do was find a store that had the dress so I could try it on, confirm my love for it, and then buy it from RK.  Misleading, you say?  Dishonest?  Yes and yes.  But a bride's gotta do what a bride's gotta do.  Especially when she's sticking to a budget.

Unfortunately, nobody seemed to carry this dress!  Some stores had other styles by the same maker but not the dress I was seeking, which was called Pamela, by La Sposa, in ivory. 

After many phone calls we found an upscale shop in Boston that actually had the Pamela dress and we made an appointment for the following weekend. 

For the record, I am a bad liar.  Ask anyone who I've ever lied to and they'll confirm this.  Aware of this, my Mom decided we should discuss our strategy beforehand.  The plan we eventually devised was for my Mom to mention her Aunt Millie if she liked the dress. 

Aunt Millie is my Grandfather's sister and I'm not sure how or when her name became a code word for everything from periods (What's wrong with you, are you getting your Aunt Millie or something?) to pointing out any randomly humorous situation or person (Have you seen Aunt Millie lately?)  Poor Aunt Millie, I'm not sure she ever did anything to warrant us using her name with such blatant disrespect.

So the plan was in place, but it almost sounded too effortless to be true.  I wondered if we shouldn't make it seem like we might buy the dress, for believability's sake?

No.  Get in, get out, get lunch.  Stick to the plan and nobody got hurt.

When we arrived at the Bridal Shop Amy was already waiting for us, surrounded by white lacy gowns.  Miraculously enough, you'd almost think she liked bridal shops.  Almost.  (I say almost because I know for a fact that even Amy isn't immune to the occasional bridal shop meltdown.)  But I do think in a past life she might have been a wedding planner.  My sister Jenna arrived a few minutes later.  She definitely doesn't love bridal shops.  Or wedding planning.  She's happily married to the love of her life, but somehow manages to remain anti-bridal. 

A moment later, a girl named Lisa appeared and immediately seemed to want to separate me from the rest of my little group.  "OK, let's go into this room here and I can help you can fill out a short questionnaire."  Questionnaire?  What?  Panicked, I glanced over at my Mom, who was now seated next to Amy, whispering about something.  "OK,"  I said meekly. 

Lisa showed me into a small room and closed the door behind me.  "First off, what price range are you looking for?"  She asked.

Now, I knew for a fact that the dresses in this shop started at about 2,000 bucks.  (My Pamela dress was waiting for me somewhere in cyberspace for a fraction of this cost!  No, no, suppress it, don't even think about it or this Lisa character will be able to see right through you...)  "Um, I guess somewhere starting in the $2,000 range?" 

"Perfect,"  Lisa smiled.  She was friendly, with a plump, pretty face and looked like she might have been a couple of years younger than me.  Maybe this was going to be a piece of cake after all.  Lisa then proceed to ask me a barrage of questions that ordinarily would have left me reeling: what is the wedding date, what bra size do I wear, how big is my wedding party, which was my favorite New Kid, Fat Elvis or Skinny Elvis, who did I vote for in the last presidential election? 

I was proud of myself.  Not only was I was keeping the charade going flawlessly, but I was doing so without even breaking a sweat.  There would be no swooning here today, thank you very much.  I guess I was doing too well, because at one point a part of me started to believe the fib, and in my delirium I began to convince myself that I would be buying a wedding gown that very day.  Lisa was just so nice, I really wanted to believe the things I was telling her weren't all fabrications.

Lisa left the room to gather some dresses and I took this chance to go out and talk to my Mom.  "So, what's happening in there?"  She whispered.  "Well, the girl just asked me some questions..."  I began cheerfully, aware that another bridal shop lady was standing close by.  I added, "She asked what my price range is, and I said about $2,000." 

My Mother's eyes widened.  What the...? 

Well, if I was going to play this charade I was going to do it right.  I wasn't going to let Lisa think I wasn't serious! 

"But you're not serious, remember?"  My Mom (aka: the voice of reason) reminded me.  Oh ya.

Lisa returned with some dresses.  I really only wanted to try on Pamela, but Lisa was practicing that enigmatic bridal shop move where they have the bride try on a gazillion dresses that aren't even remotely what she was asking for.  Finally, the moment of truth arrived.  I had found my dress.  I emerged from the dressing room wearing Pamela, feeling like a million bucks.  Or two thousand five hundred, to be exact.

My sister's face lit up.  "I LOVE IT!!"  She blurted out.  My mother and Amy shot startled glances at her.  Obviously someone had forgotten to tell Jenna we were playing it cool this afternoon. 

Amy was the next to speak.  "I like it, it's nice..." she said in her best attempt at half-heartedness.   

My Mom was trying to look casual.  "It looks ok...we'll have to check and see what Aunt Millie thinks..."

I was already too deeply invested in this farce.  Ok, nice, what did they mean nice?  This was Pamela, Pammy, Pam! 

"What do you mean, you don't like it like it?  Because I really love it!  Sister, you love it right?"  I was practically peeing myself with excitement.

"Yes!  Sister, I absolutely LOVE it!"  Jenna exclaimed.  "Buy it NOW!!"

After a few minutes Lisa went into the back to get some flowers for me to hold up to the dress.

My Mom frantically seized this opportunity and whispered, "What the hell are you guys doing?  Jenna, we're not supposed to love the dress, we're not buying it here, we're buying it in New York, remember?" 

"Oh, ya," my sister said, "I forgot." 

"But Mom, in real life you love it, right?"  I asked.

"I love it, honey, you look beautiful, I think you definitely need to get this dress, but are you planning on spending $2500 today on it?  Because you're acting like that's what you want to do.  And plus, didn't you hear me say Aunt Millie?"

Oh, ya.  I forgot.

All the shop ladies agreed, the dress was a perfect match.  Something about Pamela just glued my eyes to the three way mirror, trance-like, even.  Pretty dress, nice dress...

The minutes continued to tick by.  Pretty dress...

"You know, I don't know if I like the top,"  Amy tried.  "It looks too..." 

"Do you think?"  I asked, slightly hurt.  Her eyes widened in disbelief.  Woops, I kept forgetting.

Lisa instantly called out, "Janice, can you come over here?"  Janice was the owner of the shop.  "Janice, do you think we could do something with the top of this dress?"

Janice came over and fiddled, ooohed, and aahhed... 

The minutes continued to tick away.  I was beginning to feel...trapped in my nice pretty dress.  All reason had long since left me and I felt hazy and bleary, my body threatening to swoon at any given moment.

When Lisa stepped away my Mom once again attempted to coax some reality back into me.  "Sasa, what are you doing?"  She whispered.  "Every time we've said something negative you've said something positive.  Honey, just tell her you'll decide later and we'll come back, that you need some time..."

I wasn't sure if I could do this to Lisa, we'd already been through so much together.  I mean, the girl had practically seen me naked.  Plus although I knew I desperately needed to, for whatever reason I wasn't exactly in a hurry to take off that dress.  I was dangerously caught within the grasp of Pamela and all her sparkly loveliness...

Now my Sissy had joined the game, I think probably because she was hungry and starting to swoon herself.  "You know, I'm not sure after all, I don't really like it as much as I thought I did..."  (Oh Reader, it pained me to hear them talk about Pamela this way!)

Lisa disagreed.  "Well, Sarah obviously loves it."

"Yes, but, maybe I should think about it for a few days?"  I tried.

"Yes, Aunt Millie would want to see it on before you actually buy it."  My Mother was getting nervous.  We all were.

Again, Lisa disagreed.  "No, you should really order now if you want this dress in time for the wedding..."

At this point we had been in the store for what seemed like an eternity and there appeared to be no end in sight.  My Mother decided it was time to pull out the big guns.  "Honey, I'm just...not sure." 

"Well, which part aren't you sure about?  Your daughter is really in love with this dress."  Lisa meant business.

I could see my sweet Mother searching for the right words to say.  If you knew my Mom you'd know she is one of the nicest women in the world, practically a saint.  She's not one of those Mothers who say horribly critical things, she's great.  But desperate times called for desperate measures, and after all, her Aunt Millie line wasn't working, I was already too far gone... 

Figuratively speaking, my Mom began to flail wildly.  I think the Bridal Shop may have sapped her energy and imagination as well because the next thing I knew she was saying...

"It's just that...it's just...here, around the middle, this dress kind of makes you look a little...I don't know, full around your middle."

I watched as Lisa's eyes widened in horror, her jaw dropping with an expression of utter disgust.  Jenna and Amy's stunned faces seemed to be fighting back laughter. 

I couldn't help but think, Ma, you couldn't think of something better to say than that?

Reader, it might help to explain:  The Odd Broad can and has been called many things: pointy nosed, neurotic, bony, flat-chested (My Grandmother really wanted to order me those bust-enhancing pills from TV), possibly web-toed, but I think it's pretty safe to say that full would not be considered an accurate description. 

I've never dieted but I've always been slender, I guess due to my metabolism and genetic makeup.  On top of that, Pamela is fantastically slimming, it's just the way she was constructed.  She has a lovely, slenderizing dropped waist with soft fabric gently draping down and nobody would look full in her, it just isn't possible.

"It makes you look full, honey," my Mother said again.

Lisa looked traumatized.  "Full?  Where is she full?"  She called Janice over and shot a nasty glance at my Mother.  "She says the dress makes her look full!" 

Janice was appalled.  "Full?  Where?  That dress looks gorgeous on her." 

The pair of them were staring at my Mother like she was a venomous monster.  Amy started to giggle.

Ma was sticking to her guns.  "I'm just saying it makes you look full.  Around your tummy," she babbled.  (My Mother would like me to add that she sometimes babbles when she gets nervous.  I do, too, by the way.)

So I guess this was my out.  Albeit not an ideal way out, but an out nonetheless.  Under the gaze of Lisa's sympathetic eyes, I finally said,  "Well, if you don't like it Mom, maybe we should wait."

As she led me back to the dressing room Lisa whispered, "You do NOT look full, not one bit, you're so skinny, I don't know what she's talking about..."

Oh God.  Seeing the situation through Lisa's eyes, I was now playing the role of the victimized, emaciated bride to be with the verbally abusive Mommy Dearest who thinks she's tubby.  But at least I was off the hook.

We erupted into laughter once we got outside.  My Mother felt like an ass.  "I'm sorry!  I couldn't think of anything to say, I got nervous and just started babbling!" 

What could we say?  Desperate times had called for desperate measures. 

I ended up ordering Pamela from RK and she was everything I had ever dreamed of in a wedding gown.  I wear her around the apartment from time to time, too, and sometimes to the laundromat if I'm feeling cheeky.  (Kidding!  No, really, try it...)

I still periodically receive emails from that fancy Bridal shop, telling me about sales, discounts, etc.  I always chuckle, just a lil'.  Then I stuff myself with caramellos and cry in the fetal position because I'm afraid I've made my stomach look full.  (Just kidding, Ma.  xoxo Tee hee)