The memoirs of a Chief Brides’ Maid Part 5 - My first wedding

Organised Chaos.

For the first few hours everyone was awake, they didn't see the need to really dress up and the bride consistently as a High school principal kept sending me out to ensure they were dressed and since I could not understand why they refuse to dress up, they called me the French teacher.

The French teacher is a metaphor for a strict teacher, who carries a stick and is in everyone’s face. I do not look at the French teacher but I was in everyone’s face. I do that for a living.

We sent out one of the Brides maid car driver to get us breakfast as one of the order given was they need to eat. The lady whose driver was sent out was kind enough to warn us beforehand that we needed to write down what we wanted in big bold letters because no matter how many times the same instruction is given to the driver he hears once and remembers nothing. We taught she was joking until he came back with the wrong order.

This was the summary of the state of the room we were in. Ladies eating, wearing makeup, looking for accessories, someone wearing another one’s dress and wondering why it was too tight on her, and then I heard the call. I was needed in the Bride’s room because the photographer, yes that photographer who makes you take pictures like the world is about to end, wanted me in the shots.

I hurried up to the best of my ability, and started posing.  I am not sure who came up with the concept of posing while wearing the bride’s shoe, to putting on her earrings, to some other positions, but kudos! That is cheer creativity though because if I was to pose by the bride, I would have just stood as a stick. LOL

Then the bride in all her royal glamour asked me, are they ready? And just as I was about to give her a detailed description of how I am here with her and have no spirit in the other room to oversee the ladies, I looked at her beautiful eyes and said, they are ready. 

I went into the other room and told the ladies how I wanted things to run and by the Grace of God we all left in one piece.

The photographer was at the stairs and at this moment, the pictures continued and the procession to the limousine was accomplished in style.

It was a surreal moment as we took pictures, complimented each other, and we ignored the bumpy ride thanks to the road-holes as we all had so much enthusiasm and we had looked forward to this day.

We got to the church but stayed in the car as we needed to get a notice when it was the right time to proceed into the church. We got the message after the bridal train had gone into the church, the bride procession was next with her father and then Gadaffi (The bride’s aunty, her nickname) struck.

Last time I watched wedding movies, I clearly see the Chief Bridesmaid, picking up the wedding gown from behind, but what I did not envisage was how wide theirs was because I thought it looked pretty easy.

As I inhaled with confidence and picked up the gown, Gadaffi from nowhere hit my hand and said I should put it on the ground and ensure that it is spread evenly on the ground. Oh Lord! Are you for real?

Now let me take you through this again. The bride is walking down with her big white, drop alive gorgeous gown with the Jacket that looked like she rebranded Michael Jackson’s suit and the excess of the gown is what am staring at. Gadaffi wanted me to ensure the excess is evenly spread and not moving to one side or folding on each other. Sounds simple right?. No it was not.

I had to bend down every one step the bride took because the carpet was in enmity with the silk nature of the gown. They just hated each other and I was paying for it, for every bend I took to straighten the gown. The one moment, I decide that the gown was alright, was when Gadffi, yet again appeared form nowhere and told me it was rough. One look at Gadaffi as I cleared my sweat and I knew this woman was the best aunty anyone could ever have.

We finally got to the front and I sat behind the bride, looked back and saw all the ladies behind me and we shared smiles. We finally met the groom’s men and the best man did a quick introduction of himself to me. This was very important. We needed to be friends as soon as possible to make this happen.

The Pastor spoke and the sentence that rested in my head was Love is a partnership that involves sacrifice. You have to consciously be ready to put the need of another over yours because you are one (Paraphrased).

Then it was time to read the vows and exchange the rings. At this moment, I never knew I would be praying against the fan that had been my source of air for a while.

The veil needed to be off her face for everything to go smoothly but the fan thought otherwise. Every millisecond, it found a way of channeling its energy to the veil who in turn would rub itself over the bride’s face. Did they have any idea how much the makeup was worth? Their love game of run and catch was not funny because it means that for every love chase I needed to put the veil at the right position.  When it runs away to the bride’s face, she had this unique way of speaking to me in a low voice and I knew that if I was left alone with her, she would ask me, how hard can it be to control a veil? LOL

So I decided to hold on to the veil permanently with one hand, while the other hand had the hand fan, the bible and the purse. Those were key because Gadaffi had lectured me that no one drop of sweat should be on her face, so from behind, I had to clean her sweat, put up or down the veil and ensure my lovely Bride was in top shape.

After the vows, ring exchange and you may kiss the bride, it was almost the end of service and everyone walked out to the garden.

Guess who was in the garden? The photographers!! The photographer came with his clones. It was picture time with everyone and everything. Everything because I was informed that I had a grasshopper inside my gown. I was not smiling at this moment, I was jumping.

After pictures with family, friends, school mates, and every other person, it was with the bridal train and grooms men and the poses that were struck in this category, I have no words for. The bride should have informed us that flexibility was crucial to be part of the train.

After successful acrobatics, we then proceeded to the limousine and off we went to the reception. We chatted about everything and relief was in the air. It was still dawning on me that I am experiencing this in full view and I could see myself swelling with emotions. Amazing cannot do justice to how the day was going. It was more than amazing.

We got to the reception and everyone mentioned they were hungry. I went out to look for who would meet the needs of the train and found myself in another garden, the photographer was there and I was needed. I passed the food request to another and the garden picture started as I stared with a bottle of malt in my hand.

Malt, oh Malt. You were created for a time such as this.

We got the call that it was time to proceed into the hall and my excitement just went up a notch. This was where it was all going to go down and my responsibilities would be enhanced. I was ready in mind.

As we walked in, I saw Gadaffi and she smiled at me. I was in awe! The interior decoration of the hall was oh my word! Glamorous and beautiful. The colour was spectacular, the decoration was professional and the setting was creative. The blend of the shade of blue with white; with chandeliers and the flower decoration was put together in a way I felt special and it was not even my wedding.

The bridal train and grooms men had to create a path for the new husband and wife in town to dance through. A lot of people were in the aisle wanting to get a peek of the action, because action was going on. Dance is a verb, which means it is an action word and a doing word. The bride was verbing the word dance in all its glory.

You see, before she got married, I was in mercy of her regular dance tantrums in our dorm room. Those moments were doing, the one she was exhibiting in the wedding reception was action and doing.

We all got into the dancing frenzy and we were dancing till we got to the front of the hall and we split. The best man and I climbed the stage with the husband and wife and I had to put my hand for the best man to guide me up the stairs. Clearly he does not know that a lady with high heels cannot successfully walk up the stairs with no stair handle and he should offer a hand of support. ;)

Stay tuned J

For the continuation…