The final wedding

And we’re done! After eight weeks in a row of weddings and hens’ and bucks’ parties, ManFriend and I can spend next Saturday doing whatever the hell we want. Don’t get me wrong – the weddings and parties have been lovely and I’ve loved celebrating love with my friends. There’s just been a lot of them in a row.

I wore my favourite colour combination, red and teal:

Red pencil skirt, top that is more teal than this photo suggests, and yellow clutch

Red pencil skirt, top that is more teal than this photo suggests, and yellow clutch

Yes, I know it looks blue in this photo, but the top is teal. I got many compliments on my colour-blocking, which just goes to show that even when you don’t follow fashion, eventually you’ll be in fashion – if only for a season.

ManFriend and I had a late lunch of ham sandwiches, which seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, in what kind of crazy world are ham sandwiches not a good idea?

But soon after I began to feel green.

Very green.

Lunch was not going to stay down.

Now, I don’t know about you, but vomiting on command is not a skill I have. So I skulled 1.5 litres of water in the hope that it would make me spew.

It didn’t. (And meant I spent the ceremony jiggling my legs.)

So I tried sticking my toothbrush down my throat, because that’s what they do in movies and books, right? I retched, but still nothing. Unless you count pulling the muscles under my chin and in my neck. Which is remarkably painful. (Thanks to the wonderful Lorana for getting ibuprofen for the pulled-muscle-induced cracking headache.)

We were running out of time and I wasn’t going to vomit, so I got dressed and started doing my make-up.

Then I stopped.

It wasn’t my mouth that it was going to come out of.

I took off my wedding clothes – you never know how explosive these things are going to be – and went into the bathroom.

I won’t describe the next bit, but it wasn’t as bad as expected. Which was quite a relief. Ha, nice pun!

Then I put my wedding clothes back on, did my hair, and finished putting on my face. And then knocked the lipstick out of my hand.

It bounced down my top and skirt in big red smears.

Fuck.

Shit.

Faaaaaark.

We dabbed at it with make-up remover.

Nothing.

ManFriend raced to the shop to see if they had glycerine or dry cleaning fluid (according to Shannon Lush and Jennifer Fleming in Spotless).

Nope.

If I was in a Judd Apatow film, I’d have accidentally released a sex tape on the internet by now.

Aha! said ManFriend.

I can fix this.

The shirt has pussy bow-ish ties, so with some discreet safety-pinning of the ties off to the side, we covered the lipstick, hoped no one would notice it on the skirt, and jumped in a taxi.

Why do I tell you guys this stuff?

37 responses to “The final wedding

  1. I don’t know why you tell us this stuff, but it made me laugh. In a deeply sympathetic fashion, of course.

    Fabulous outfit! Making a note to myself that I really need to get over black.

  2. Wow. Well, I hope you enjoy next weekend at any rate.

  3. Snaps to ManFriend for being a total champ in times of crisis.

    As an aside, I now have three copies of Spotless. All gifts from friends who “saw it and thought of me” ie. equal parts clumsy and anal retentive I suspect (and a bad combo I know).

  4. Excellent post, it sounds like a win overall.

  5. Well done on the brave colour blocking. Everything else is just a gift really to your readers x

  6. Love Manfriend’s quick thinking, and that was a hell of a story.

  7. Baby wipes usually work pretty well at getting makeup marks off. Just for future reference!

  8. Because you value sharing a comedic moment over pride! I know this because I tell people funny Embarrasing stories about myself all the time, and that must be my motivation…

  9. Why do you tell us this stuff? Because it makes us feel better about how useless we are!

  10. yes, it makes all the rest of us feel better to know about others’ cock ups. Plus you hid the smears on the top really well and it didn’t even occur to me to check out the ones on the skirt. Enjoy next Sat sans nuptial commitment. I promise never to occupy your weekend with any such shenanigans. x

  11. As a bloke I must tell you that I support a football team whose dominant colour is teal.
    It is a cracking colour, and they would be honoured to know that you are providing tacit suppport.
    In fact if you ever ditch ManFriend (Manfred?) I should be glad to step out with you dressed in that colour.

    • Well, that’s quite the offer. And quite the colour, too. We put a teal bench in the laundry, and I’m going to paint the window sill above it bright red.

      Mark, welcome to the News with Nipples.

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