Confessions Of: A Semi-Failed Maid Of Honor

This life according to Lu: confessions of a semi-failed maid of honor.
Image                               “be silly. be honest. be kind.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Growing up, there were three things I knew for certain: brussels sprouts were not to be trusted, my older sister was going to be the next Queen of England and I was to be her Maid of Honor. Although my relationship with brussels sprouts has since changed for the better, minus the fact that they have an “s” that is never pronounced–what is that about–it was Kate Middleton and her gorgeously perfect taste in pea coats who crushed my sisters’ royal potential. But, luckily, said position remained mine. I was her Maid of Honor, a divine birthright, I suppose, or perhaps an expectation, yet deserved after years of playing ‘wedding’ and holding floral bouquets, aka whatever was in the garden, read: dandelions.

 After my wonderfully awkward and semi-failed, notorious experience I feel obliged to advise all ladies being considered as MOH-worthy on what not to do.  Because lets be honest, expectations versus reality regarding this job title varies vastly, a detail I wish I had known prior to July 27th, 2013. So, cheers, from a slightly dishonorable, overly intoxicated maid of honor, to all current MOH’s, wedding season shall commence. Do you promise to take these vows? (Really…you should.)

 I solemnly swear to eat the food. Please. I sacrificed sweets for nearly three months prior to the wedding to fit comfortably into my gown. By the reception, I was looking at the bacon covered scallops and crab-cakes like they were naked Ryan Gosling on a toothpick. But, I was worrying senselessly over orating my speech; I skipped every deliciously juicy, colorful plate because the butterflies in my stomach insisted I wasn’t hungry. Vow to eat the food because a-it’s delicious, b-it’s been paid for, and c-you physically need it, you’re exhausted and running on adrenaline. Eat—a verb I never imagined I’d dispute with.

 I solemnly swear to drink the wine, but not too much.  While I was frantically worrying over my MOH speech and saying RIP to that roasted asparagus lying scantily on top of a perfect sear of steak, I befriended the Cab Sauv. The wine was multi-talented, so magically capable of continuous restoration to the rim of my glass. Drink, absolutely! It’s a party after all and you’re there to celebrate, but do not overindulge. You’re also there for support—do not be the girl who can’t remember the bouquet toss. (Whoops). RE: I solemnly swear to attend all wedding festivities. If you spend the night with that Champagne bottle, said vow could be broken (i.e. Sunday brunch). 

I solemnly swear to not make out with the best man/groomsmen
. Sure, he’s cute and hey, you’ve kissed before—why not?Because, he’s more trouble than the boy who walked in Taylor Swift’s life (and she knew it, too) and that infinity pool of white wine you accidentally gorged. Remember: your attention should be dedicated to the bride and making sure you don’t accidentally pull a Lea Michele kind of nip slip! I solemnly swear to keep the bridesmaids and wedding guests in check. One of the cousins is getting weepy and grandma is apparently lost. Do not let said stress affect the bride. MOH, duty calls! Note: grandma is a priority! Do you take the listed vows above? If yes, then yay, you shall succeed in the plight. I now pronounce you an honorable maid, which lacks slight credibility when the source is from an admittedly botched MOH, but still.


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