An account of my Saturday. Attending a wedding.


I made it through the whole day wearing heels without being crippled. I will admit that I made a reasonable amount of effort to look nice: I may or may not have spent just shy of £100 at the hairdressers on Thursday (yay new kerastase elixir variant and label m thickening cream) having dyed hair the day before and invested in not only new tights (without holes, ladders or inappropriate fishnet/stripey additions) and nail varnish (first time I treated myself to opi).

SO’s father told me I looked nice and the mother of the groom said my hair was almost as lovely as SO’s. There end the compliments and appreciation for my efforts. I already spoke to SO about wanting some photos because my memory is shocking and I am at the age where im not likely to improve and in my dotage it might be nice to look back and see what I failed to appreciate at the time. But. Of course he took no photos and when I mentioned it was told it wasn’t my day and I should stop being so selfish.

Sigh. Yea.

So what about the actual wedding aside from my lack of ego boosting? Well, it was cold, there was a bagpipe player outside the church, the bride arrived only 15 mins late, looking lovely in an elegant lacy dress and then the horrific service began. The vicar obviously feels the need to spread his evangelical message and try to saturate everyone with the glory of his god( small g )  against their will, if necessary. I felt utterly offended by the way he spoke and although obviously the couple chose a Christian church wedding, it is usually expected that there will be consideration made that some of the congregation may be atheist or Buddhist or Hindu or pagan or muslin or church of angry tortoise-badger cutlery collectors. The hymns were bad. I wonder why they chose those which are notoriously difficult to sing eg ‘,lord of the dance” or are just unfamiliar. I didn’t sing. Nor did I participate in the expected congregational responses prayers (but rather spent the time analysing the vestigial knee-jerk reactions which were drummed into me as a child but meant nothing to me).

Finally released into freedom! Got cold outside the reception venue waiting for bride and groom to return from some epic photoshoot then settling down at our prescribed table (hoping we wouldn’t be next to the obnoxious bloke SO Went to school with and whose wife with incredibly massive knockers on show who was annoyingly asking when WE would be getting hitched…) thankfully we were with a pretty decent crowd, friendly and pleasant. The couple next to me had their daughter with them, who first got stuck in the kiddie high chair needing screwdriver assistance to be removed, and then proceeded to tell us that she needed a poo; ok you think, it happens…but…five mins after returning to the table…same again…now youd be forgiven for thinking the kid had an upset stomach, but actually she wasn’t using the bathroom, just dragging her parents up and down the hallway knowing full well that they wouldn’t risk ignoring her!
Food was dreadful! We had two non dairy requests on our table yet they seemed largely incapable of catering for this. My main was grossly overcooked pasta in tomato sauce. Dessert was fruit with some ‘sorbet’ which looked abd tasted suspiciously milky. I donated my favor sweets to the little girl that said she needed a poo every 5 mins because 1, she had fudge and didn’t like it 2, she was traumatized from being trapped in the chair and 3, although dairyfree they were not vegetarian!

By the time the speeches came around, the ibuprofen I took at tge church had pretty much been removed from my system so I figured a glass of bubbly wouldn’t hurt (after making SO check on his phone whether it was a deadly combo or not) and it made the dreadful best man’s speech slightly more bearable. What happened next was odd. About half of the guest seemed to be named and thanked for their individual help with things and handed them all gifts like an award ceremony! Odd. Oh well. I got SO to buy me a glass of overpriced wine and we watched the traditional Scottish dancing ( while SO had horrific flashbacks of when he was head boy for county team country dancing at school!) and I sat there annoyed that yet again I had no chance to dance and have fun because SO would rather eat acid coated glass shards than dance! But instead sat chatting to a charming Scottish lady.

Once the buffet was served and we had signed our names and a message next to an abysmal photograph of us (well actually SO looked ok and was uncharacteristically smiling, whereas I looked moody and awkward) as we entered the reception, we felt safe to leave without causing offense.

My goodness that was a long description! Are you still awake? Final summary: spent whole day thinking that most of the women there looked prettier and thinner than me and being annoyed with myself for repeatedly thinking this 😦 booooo.