Wedding Story
I had the June wedding that nobody dreams of.
I was sixteen, in love and pregnant. Being raised by my grandmother, who was 59 at the time, I did what all girls in ‘trouble’ in her day did. I got married quickly, only two weeks after the positive pregnancy test.
To my horror, the beautiful wedding I had envisioned became a tightwad situation. My wedding dress was not white silk and lacy with a long train. Instead we went to JC Penny and bought a nice pink, blue and white dress for seventeen dollars. The flowers purchased for my bouquet were not pink and white daisies or carnations, but brown and orange plastic flowers held together by brown packaging tape.
Plans for the wedding and reception was discussed and made within twenty-five minutes. I opted for an outdoor wedding at a church members home instead of the ancient country church down the road. Their home was the nicest I had ever been in, and there was an open shelter that was ideal for the ceremony.
The reception would take place at the groom’s parent’s house. The house itself was decrepit. Drinking water had to be hauled in jugs. The only running water was in the kitchen sink from a well that was contaminated. To flush the toilet, a bucket had to be filled and poured into it. Nevertheless, it was chosen for its size in order to accommodate the guests.
The weather was nice except for a spot of rain. Laughingly, I was warned of the old wives tale about rain on the wedding day was a sign of a sad marriage. Most guests arrived on time however, my favorite sixteen year old cousin jealously refused to come because I was allowed to get married yet he wasn’t allowed to be in a rock band. My maid of honor arrived dressed in a pink formal. Talk about outshining the bride! Every other teenage friend I had never came.
The bridal march music was a terrible recording of an acquaintance playing a electric piano. But hey, beggars can’t be choosy right? Family members snapped pictures with 110 cameras. The cousin that was supposed to video tape it didn’t show up.
The ceremony is one I will never forget. The preacher was elderly and set in his ways. I cried my eyes out and stuttered as I repeated my vows, and not because I was overjoyed. Despite my previous requests, my vow was not one to honor and cherish, but to honor and obey. I was a very strong-willed person that took my wedding vows seriously, and some of my groom’s wishes was opposite of my own.
When it was time for me to throw the bouquet to the available girls to find out who would be the next to marry, everyone took their places. I turned my back to them and I tossed it. Just at that moment the soft breeze turned into a strong gust. The bouquet made it barely toward the girls before it was returned to me.
I wish I could say that was the end of my horror story. Unfortunately, it was only beginning.
The reception dinner itself was not too bad. I barely ate of the chips and cold cut sandwiches. I remember the dinner cost less than fifteen dollars, but that was the least of embarrassments.
My bride’s maid had brought her baby and her little sister. The sister babysat the kid while she disappeared. The baby became sick and vomited on my mother-in-law’s couch. So my new mother spent part of her afternoon cleaning, and part of the afternoon complaining.
Just where had the bride’s maid disappeared to? No one knew at the time, but it wasn’t too long before everyone knew. She seduced my husband’s brother and got him to go to the barn. That isn’t too bad, but when my new brother-in-law kissed and told all the men about it he didn’t leave out the part that she wasn’t wearing underwear. And like all good gossip, it spread like wildfire.
No bride should have to spend her wedding day continually apologizing to the mother-in-law. That is worse than extreme and unusual punishment, and it set the pattern for what my life would be like dealing with her. To this day, I can’t do anything right for her and find myself apologizing for things that are out of my control.
