Work in Progress Part IV

It had been fairly evident for some time that my eldest cousin was getting remarried. Her left shoulder had been rendered slightly lower than the other due to her hand being weighed down by the diamond boulder attached to it with very strong platinum. Fortunately, she had her hand in the grasp of so many of our admiring relatives that permanent damage may have been averted. This was the husband of which they approved.

Not that they didn’t shell out plenty for the first wedding, but it is now set aside as “that incident years ago” or something like that. It wasn’t exactly a wedding for the ages, but the hairdos were definitely from the 80s era. The march down the aisle had been rather hilarious in itself. It was a parade of mullets, hairspray and bright screaming royal blue cummerbunds goose-stepping to the altar, with George leading up the rear. Even my father commented that it resembled a funeral procession with his bachelorhood as the corpse. Screaming royal blue gowns followed, topped by faces that were nothing particularly special, so their uniforms did their job in shielding the identities of the bridesmaids.

Rachel had gained about 25 pounds between her initial dress fitting and the ceremony. Her intended made sure to let several people know it, although nobody had to tell the pastor as he kept looking down into the dangerously overfilled bodice of Rachel’s gown. Her cleavage later served as a final resting place for the piece of strawberry cake smashed into her face, creating a contrast to the lines of mascara quickly pooling from down her cheeks and neck.

I had been glad that I had gone with my initial instinct and worn black despite my mother’s protests that it was inappropriate for an afternoon wedding. It had gone with my mood and my purple hair, although I had been talked into wearing the latter down instead of the Mohawk I had so desperately wanted to sport. My parents had distanced themselves slightly, reminding everyone I was in college and going through a period of self-exploration. Everything would be fine as long as I kept bringing home nice and temporary boys but not girls, temporary or otherwise.

Ah, but THIS fiancé was different. Kevin was definitely the one, in the opinion of the family. He was the right religion so we wouldn’t be stuck squirming through an interfaith church service. Right background so he could afford to keep Rachel in the way she deserved to be kept. Much less likely to make passes at other members of his future wife’s family was the unspoken thought. Only Rachel’s sister Melissa was less surprised than I was when George was caught with his pants around his ankles and his dental assistant on his desk. That was because Melissa was his office manager, and she had avoided his advances by threatening him with a drawer filled with dangerous looking hooks and picks.