I attended a real-life, actual wedding yesterday, something I don’t usually get to do. I was officially off-duty. But.
I couldn’t help myself. I intercepted a bridesmaid between the ceremony and photos with, “Honey, we need to hide your bra before the pics.” She looked a little startled – we’d never met, and she’d just got off a 10-hour flight from British Columbia – and made a swift exit.
“You just made that bridesmaid run off crying,” my husband said as he rejoined me. Just as I panicked that he might not be joking, the bridesmaid reappeared with a tin of body tape.
While we secured the neckline of her peach dress to her décolleté to conceal her black bra, I apologised for my temeritous accost while she explained that she’d somehow forgotten to pack a matching bra for her whistle-stop 24 hours in Oxford for her friends’ wedding. She also reassured me that I had not actually made her cry, only run off to retrieve the tit tape.
Later, at the reception, I noticed the bride’s sequinned spaghetti strap was twisted on her left shoulder as she chatted to other guests. I’d only met her once previously, several years ago, but before I could remind myself of this, I’d reached out from behind her and run my finger under it to smooth it back out.
Argh, what if it was meant to be twisted because it was too long otherwise, or some other reason I hadn’t though of?
Fortunately, it was all OK, and the bride (and bridesmaid) thanked me.
So, was I out of line? Is it a bridal dressmaker thing or even just a mum thing? Case in point, I’m also a sucker for tucking in strangers’ protruding clothing labels when I see them.
Or is it a neurospicy obsession with the rules and making sure everything is as it should be, just as I still can’t resist correcting a grammatical solecisim?
Incidentally, we also sang Amazing Grace during the service, and I had to edit the fourth stanza.
I have no friends.
