Tag Archives: wedding

An uneventful wedding


I’m having a very lazy Monday because I’m absolutely shattered, have been working non stop10329075_10204702175216343_93228969117159058_n and on my feet for most of the summer so far so I think I deserve a day of peace before it all starts again. Yesterday was the day my step mother got the day she has been waiting for for almost 10 years- that we were all sure wasn’t going to come- her and my fathers wedding day.

She is much younger than Dad, and wants nothing more than to settle down with more kids and get married whilst my Dad has, and I quote, “already been there, done that”, referring to his first marriage with my mum and the fathering of my brother and I. I’ll be completely honest, I’m not convinced that this wedding wasn’t just a way to shut her up and make her happy, and that’s not just based on the fact  that although my Dad earns a large salary the ceremony, reception and disco was all held at the same small venue two minutes away from their house, but also the guests who came. Dad only had a total of 4 guests and that’s including my brother and I who technically weren’t guests but the page boy and bridesmaid. The other two guests were my aunt and cousin who later informed me that they were never actually invited, but the wedding came up in conversation and they asked if they should probably be there. So I assume that Dad wasn’t all too bothered about who attended, whilst Jo had all her family, friends and colleagues there.

The day started at 9am, I was dropped off at he hotel by my Dad, who didn’t speak to me the entire journey. He’s an odd bloke, arrogant and above everyone else and acts like nothing phases him. Always going 10 above the speed limit and constantly on the phone to his colleagues talking about who they should fire next, just cause’ they can. He throws his money around like he’s got it on tap and uses it to get exactly what he wants. The rules have never applied to him, yet he’s always landed on his feet. People like this frustrate me at the best of times, so its fair to say that although we have some similar traits, we are two very different people.

Arriving at the venue, I was swept up in a cyclone of frantic bridesmaids. Nothing was done, the ceremony room was yet to be decorated, the restaurant was still filthy from breakfast and Jo was outside smoking. I was quickly thrown into a chair and my hair was under attack from an army of backcombs and curling tongs. Personally, at my wedding it will be more a case of the bridesmaids having their hair how they want, as long as its not nicer than mine or some off the rainbow shade of pink. It then dawned on me that the women in charge of my hair were actually all barbers, and god were they barbers for a reason. By the time they had finished I looked like I was a 12 year old girl about to take part in a beauty pageant in Tennessee. Half of my hair was up in a half bun and the remains were tightly curled and left to hang lifelessly on my neck.

Half way through having my hair destroyed

Half way through having my hair destroyed

Disaster. I am sure that Jo did this on purpose, she wanted me to look hideous. We had a weirder relationship than my father and I. She isn’t much older than me but I see her more like a step sister that I have to be nice to. She has no morals, I don’t know maybe I’m still bitter about the fact that my dad cheated on my mum with her and got her pregnant before my Dad had even moved out. Normally I’d feel like a bad person for thinking this, but honestly I just think it makes me human. I can see it from her side either, it must be awkward for her being around her fiancés children knowing full well that she is the reason we are fatherless, but like I said, that’s her and my dads fault.

Jo stood back to admire her work, disgusting. She smiled and said perfect. I grinned, got up, went into the bathroom and cried my eyes out. She knows that my self confidence is shot at the moment, why was she doing this? Anyway after a short 10 minute breakdown, I decided that she wasn’t going to win this one. She needed to understand that if we are going to be in each others lives, she’s going to have to realise that she has nothing over me, she took my Dad, the least she could do is give me decent hair for the wedding. I wasn’t even trying to impress anyone, it was the principal now. I grabbed the remaining curls of hair, twisted them up and pinned them underneath the bun, making it all look like it was one large updo. It actually looked half decent. I went out of the bathroom acting like nothing had changed, she didn’t say anything but the look of defeat on her face was precious.

The wedding itself was average, I walked down first and caught eyes with my boyfriend who was sitting behind my brother and cousin. Don’t fucking trip now, you may look like a hippo wrapped in purple cling film and high heels but you still have your dignity. I sat down with them, turned to my boyfriend who mouthed to me “You look beautiful”. My Dad looked his usual self, trying to hide feelings he “doesn’t have” and look above everyone else. I noticed behind them on a desk was a laptop with Skype open, and could see the distinct faces of my grandparents who were watching from Skype. Nothing eventful happened during the ceremony, other than my granddad shouting “HIYA!” during the silence when Jo was walking down the isle. Classic Grandy.

After the wedding there was just a buzz of photographs and champaign, that id already had 4 or 5 glasses of and was feeling slightly tipsy already. After, there was a lot of waiting around. I was properly reunited with my cousin, Emily and my Aunty Andrea. They are probably the nicest girls I have ever met and we have so much in common, we talked non stop and caught up which was nice. I only see Em once maybe twice a year due to distance, which is really sad because I don’t really get on with any other girl like I do with her, I think its mutual when I say that if we were closer we would be best friends.

The meal was bog standard. Dad had forgotten about my gluten intolerance and Em’s vegetarianism and had served a bread and mozzarella salad to start, a chicken and white wine sauce with veg for the main and profiteroles for desert. I wasn’t hungry due to being squeezed into a corset and my stomach being restricted to 1/4 of its original size, but I ate what I could. I have honestly never felt so uncomfortable. All off my boobage was spilling over the top of my dress and I couldn’t really twist or bend without pain, plus being surrounded by people that were wearing nice, normal floaty dresses was getting my anxiety high.

Dads speech was something to behold. Again he thought he could wing his way through it, like everything else. I recall him comparing her to his car, which didn’t impress her much understandably. The best man speech was dragged out and everyone was pretty much ready to go home by the end of it. He ended by wishing them luck on their honeymoon to North Wales, which confused us all because they were going to the South of France, but after a couple of minutes of Dad calling him an idiot he retaliated by saying “Sorry, Rob just told me he was going to Bangor for a week” (say it fast and it sounds like bang her)

After the meal there was a lot of sitting around doing a fat lot of nothing. Tea and coffee was offered, and when me and Em went go make our tea, Em left hers on the edge of the table whilst she got some milk. The duty manager came over with the cake cut up onto strips and leant across the table to put it on an empty space, meanwhile obliviously dunking her blazer pocket into Em’s tea. We both saw and just looked at each other before breaking out in hysterics. She moved away from the table and must have felt the sodding wet pocket dripping and said “I’ve dunked it in haven’t I!” before apologizing relentlessly and offering to make her a new one, to which Em said “No don’t worry, I’m sure it doesn’t taste of jacket”. Bugger me, she drank it and critiqued it by saying it was a subtle blend of china and pocket fluff. Probably the highlight of the evening.

A couple of hours passed, and emphasis shifted to alcohol. Fair to say my Dad was absolutely hammered by the time the first dance came around. It wasn’t a dance but more of a public grope that went on far too long. Afterwards the dance floor remained empty, apart from my Dad who had judging by the smell lost control of his bowels and was running around breaking wind, swearing at people and drinking more than a thirsty horse. Time for us to leave, we thought at half 9.

If anything this wedding has given me an idea of what my wedding WON’T be like, I now know that that my Dad shouldn’t be given alcohol when the windows are closed, and tea tastes a bit better when you dunk a strangers pocket in it. Not a completely wasted day then.