If you’ve read this column for a few months, you might remember
that my sister is getting married. If you don’t recall this
exciting fact, don’t worry. I’m going to bore you with stories
about it until September, when the nuptials actually take
place.
If you’ve read this column for a few months, you might remember that my sister is getting married. If you don’t recall this exciting fact, don’t worry. I’m going to bore you with stories about it until September, when the nuptials actually take place.
Anyway, it turns out that I am not only the world’s oldest living bridesmaid, I am also the co-host of a shower. I cannot tell you how much that stinks. For one thing, I’m not a shower person. Well, I mean, I TAKE showers – the kind with water and shampoo. But I do not give showers – the kind with dorky games and chintzy favors.
In fact, of the top 10 things I hate most on earth, giving, attending or otherwise being associated with a wedding shower comes in at no. 8. OK, maybe 7, but that’s only because eyebrow waxing is so painful. And yet, for the love of a sibling, who frankly was a pain the butt our entire childhood, I’m co-hosting a shower. And lucky me, I’m in charge of the games and the chintzy favors. Why? Why am I being punished?
I hate the dang games. I think they’re stupid. Nothing dumbs down a group of intelligent, vital women more than sitting them in a room and making them all wear safety pins on their nice summer dresses while they wait for another woman to cross her legs or utter the word “sex” so they can steal her pin and hear the rest of the group scream with delight.
Just kill me now. I’m begging you.
The alternative, of course, is to have a shower without the games. Imagine a wedding shower without a “Wedding Jeopardy” game where the various guests have to decide whether my sister’s fiancee picked the china pattern or whether she did. This is a game where not one of the answers is “nobody” to the Jeopardy question “what is, who enjoyed paying $200 a place setting for this ugly china?”
Imagine a world where nobody takes toilet paper, tape and tissue flowers and swaddles an unwilling guest in a “wedding dress.” Why would anyone in their right mind do this, let alone 20 or so of your closest friends? Why would we think wrapping several women in toilet paper and judging their outfits is fun? Wouldn’t just going down to the local gym and having a public weigh-in be less painful?
And dare I even hope for an afternoon where we don’t play “Pin the Ball and Chain on the Groom?” Oh sure, it’s funny the first time you see the little cutout of the bride that everyone has to pin on the groom – but let’s be real. After several thousand blindfolded games of this, it gets old. Nearly as old as me and we all know that I am the World’s Oldest Living Bridesmaid. Seriously. All the other bridesmaids my age are either dead or smart enough to realize that their days of wearing matching dresses with four other people are over.
But back to the wedding shower, which unfortunately doesn’t have an age limit. Look, is it too much to ask that we just don’t play the games at all? Well, yes, apparently it is indeed way too much to ask, according to my mother. In fact, according to my mother, we should have a minimum of two games. Which in my opinion, is two games too many, but nobody at this shower wants my opinion.
So I kind of decided that if I can’t avoid the games entirely the least I could do was make them not as stupid. Turns out making wedding showers less stupid is an exceedingly difficult thing to do. For one thing, by their very nature, they are stupid. After all, nobody comes to a wedding shower to discuss the economy or debate whether Hillary is more of a man than her spouse. No, we come for little baby sandwiches and iced tea and freezer-burned mini quiches. Is it any wonder we end up spending an entire afternoon playing Bridal Shower Charades?
And since there is no way to avoid the games, I guess I will join in. But I’m telling you, the first person to come at me with a roll of toilet paper and an attitude is going to get hit over the head repeatedly with the quiche platter.
