The morning of the wedding didn't start out too great. I woke up early so that Mom and I would have time to somehow alter the dress so that I wouldn't feel embarressed or uncomfortable. Michelle, whom I love so very much, chose a bridesmaid gown that had spegetti straps. This is the stuff fat girl's nightmares are made of. I hate spagetti straps, I can't wear them for two reasons: 1> there are no foundation garments that are strapless that come in my size, and if they do they make my boobs look funny and 2> I hate my arms, they are big and floppy and I avoid showing them at all.
Luckily, Michelle got a dress that came with a shawl. I had to count my blessings. Mom is a miracle worker, sure she might drink a little too much, or own eight dogs, or do strange things like chase stray chickens down a highway (long story) but atleast she can sew like a master.
I stepped into the gown and got it zipped up. I had to wear a full body foundation garment. Mom and I call them chicken suits (cus they used to be lacy and reminded us of chicken skin). I have to wear this becuase it sucks in all my chub and it gives me great boob support (like you wanted to know all this right?). Anyway, the straps on the meidevil contraption are like an inch wide. There was no way I could just wear the dress, it had to be altered.
Mom, weilding her needle and thread like Excalibur deftly placed the shawl over my shoulders. I looked in the mirror and was not happy with what I saw. The tears just started pouring out. I looked like a purple sack of potatoes (is there an e in that word?) with a clumsy shawl pinned to it. Miserable, fearful, embarressed...I couldn't stop crying. I was so unhappy. I didn't want to show up at the wedding with people I actually thought highly of seeing me look like the rejected bridesmaid. Mom was so cool about it. She just let me cry (the best thing to do is always let me cry, 8 times out of 10 I'm not crying about what I'm saying I'm crying about, it's just a release of built up tension). I went to my room miserable while Mom worked on the dress. She called me back in and had me put it back on. After more stitches and tucks the job was done. I looked up and actually felt relief.
Thanks Mom...You made a bad day the best day.
While my dress looked different (because I had the shawl draped and sewn on) I felt so comfortable and confident. My dress didn't look way different than the others' and I didn't have to muss with the damn shawl.
I wonder if "beautiful" people think about stuff like that. I bet they do...that's why the look so good all the damn time.
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So the wedding was a great success. I thought I'd hate the whole thing but it was the best time. I feel so lucky to have been a part of the wedding party. Michelle, who looked like a princess, made sure that her special day was everyone's special day. She made gift boxes, evening bags, and champagne glasses for the bridesmaids. She's one of the most amazing people I know.
To top off all this, not only was the day PERFECT weather wise but lots of people I adore and love were there. I have mad respect for lots of them: Roger who keeps trying to bring culture to Bakersfield, Justin who is actually working towards his dream, Tammy who approaches situations with such an open heart and a touch of class, and Andrew who just makes me smile all the time.
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Some people wonder why I made the Justin Zachary fansite (according to my spy, the site was a topic of conversation several times at the wedding). Even Justin asked why I was putting in such an effort. At the time, I couldn't quite put my finger on it and the more I tried to explain the more psycho stalker I started to sound.
The fact of the matter is, I really didn't know why myself. I had only this push to do it. Justin thinks its because I'm in love with him (crying to a near stranger in a bar will probably give off that impression). And yet it is not like that at all...its something more platonic.
I pondered this for a week. And as usual, it was with Tina that I finally verbalized my intentions. I could only explain it using an anology so here it goes:
I had a beautiful, wonderful, charming brother named Ryan. He and I were very close. I love him with all my heart and soul. One day God decided to take Ryan away from here and Ryan was killed in a car accident.
Now, up until this time I was a big sister. I took care of Ryan, fought for him, terrorized him, loved him. I remember doing stuff like cleaning his scraped knees and helping him avoid getting in trouble. All of a sudden this role I had taken all my life was null and void. I had no sibling, I was no longer a big sister.
My heart, not knowing this, continues to make love for my brother but there is no outlet for this love. He isn't here. So, in a sense, I carry around with me a bucket of surplus big sister love. After awhile this bucket got so very heavy for me. I started looking for people to give my love to.
Milton, Shawn, Chris, Ed, Justin, and Jeremy: these are my outlets. With these young men in my life I never have to say good-bye to being a big sister. I can continue to foster success in their lives. I can help them out and support them and give them all the love my heart can manage. And in a sense, Ryan's loss is not in vain.
Each boy I love, reminds me a little of Ryan. And I think maybe Ryan would have liked them or maybe would have turned out like them: handsome, good natured, and successful. Maybe a glimmer in their eye, or their boyish charm and I don't need to know the details of their lives, my love is automatic and will not cease.
So, by doing something for Justin that I can do to help him out in his quest for fame, I am still a member of the big sisters. My identity can remain. It helps me not miss Ryan so very very much.
Most of all, these young men let me love them. I appreciate that, the ability to love them. When Jeremy got a cold, I was actually excited! I brought him vitamins and medacine and went to the store and brought him food. It's my little way of making the world a better place.
My little way of paying homage to the most beautiful boy I ever met and loved.
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So, there's a little bit of my soul for you. It's pretty sappy and melodramatic, and even now after reading it...it's still not a completely exact description. It is the best that I can do.
GOOD NEWS UPDATE: Tina is moving into a new apartment and guess who lives right next door: Michelle and Eric. I am super excited about this turn in events. This is awsome!
Let's see...Oh, I got my first real paycheck for teaching and it was huge (at least huge for me) it was $749! YIPPY SKIPPY!!! I was so stoked! Oh man, this teaching gig is sorta cool.
Mike P. bought a house. I've actually seen the place and its just the cutest thing. How did we grow up so fast? Why do I feel like we are becoming grown ups? Remember how much we hated them? The grown-ups that is.
Finally, shooting of Mike's latest flic will end this weekend. It's a short movie, based on the one act play he co-wrote with his Mom called "The First Supper." I produced the stage version, and thought it was the crowning glory of the one act festival. Good Job Mike!
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My friends never cease to amaze me with their creativity, streangth and ability.
Much love!
Smooches,
Chelsea