Monday Dare: Cake time, fuckers

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Act like a lady

You know that look you get when you ask the stranger waiting for her Cheddar Broccoli soup at Corner Bakery to hold your baby for thirty-seven seconds because you really need to pee, but you’re by yourself and you forget to bring the stroller, and it’s really hard to do your business with a baby in your arms? You knew it was a bad idea to leave the house in the first place, but goddammit, the house was starting to smell like rancid baby formula and you just needed to be around people who didn’t shit in their pants? And you know better than to leave the baby with a total stranger, but the thought of getting some alone time in a toilet stall really worked you over?

Well, that’s the look I get when I see a wedding invitation: a mixture of fear and “What the fuck is this bitch talking about?”

Weddings make me nervous. I don’t like them because there are all sorts of rules to follow. I can’t wear white because that’s reserved for the bride. I’m not allowed to swear. I can’t answer phone calls during the ceremony. I’m not allowed to open any of the presents because “they’re not for you, Elizabeth.”

I followed every rule during my brother’s wedding last Saturday, and I STILL got in trouble. Marshall and his bride had a beautiful ceremony followed by a buffet reception at a local church. Since my only ladylike dress is white, I donned the next best thing: a colorful number I wore during my BlogHer Voices of the Year speech a few weeks ago (The video is posted below). Yes, it may have been a little low-cut for a church wedding, but where in the rules does it say anything about low-cut? EXACTLY.

It was clear that my mother was not happy with my attire when I walked into the church, and she forcefully gripped by arm to take me aside. “I’m seeing an awful lots of boobs. This is a House of God.”

“Well, Ma, God made boobies,” I said. It’s hard to argue against that shit, no? I could tell she agreed because she refused to make eye contact with me for the rest of the day.

For five hours, I acted like a lady. I don’t want to brag or anything, but I was really good at it.

My brother and his wife had a photo booth during the reception. Each strip printed twice, one to keep and one to put into an album for the happy couple. After seeing my strip, my brother looked unhappy. “Did you just throw up a gang sign at my wedding?” (Gang sign picture posted on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page)

“Sheesh, Marshall, you didn’t say anything about signs. Just swearing.” It’s so fucking hard to win with this family. I just give and give and they take and take and take and take and take. Why are people so ungrateful?

One of my best friends is getting married this Saturday. On my 32nd birthday. I am a bridesmaid. This is probably where I should mention that I’ve never been a bridesmaid before. But, with the recent wedding practice I’ve had, I’m sure it’ll be smooth-sailing.

Funny wedding stories? Horror stories?
I haven’t gotten a gift for my homegirl yet. What’s the best wedding gift you’ve given or received?

(You can also access the video directly here. It doesn’t play on mobile devices. I’m too stupid to figure it out. Please love me anyway.)

P.S. Let’s get connected on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. I’ll be posting real-time updates during the five-day wedding extravaganza weekend. Mostly though, I just need to be connected to y’all in case I find myself in a rough spot and need bail money.

image via

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