INSIDE I'm SCREAMING - a true wedding story

This picture was taken literally as the bride handed me her guest list and BLANK place cards. (Inside I'm screaming)

This picture was taken literally as the bride handed me her guest list and BLANK place cards. (Inside I'm screaming)

What feels like a million years ago (ok, maybe a little less), I started my wedding planning business which I appropriately named "The Perfect Details."  How and why I went into weddings is another story which I'll share at another time but I'll never forget one of the first weddings I managed. 

The wedding ceremony rehearsal the day before had been less than stellar. The bride and groom were an hour late and the wedding party wasn't very helpful. It turns out one of the bridesmaids and one of the groomsmen had been dating and the groomsmen proposed to his then girlfriend and she said "NO", they broke up and here we were, at someone else's wedding with the two ex's in their friend's wedding. OH and did I mention they both had dates? It was like a contest of who could outdo who. (And it was AWKWARD!)

But as we say in the performance world, the show must go on and a bad rehearsal means a great performance, right? 

It was one of those "perfect" days for a wedding - blue skies, puffy white clouds (and no rain! ); cue the cute little white church and a swanky country club for the wedding reception. We were surprisingly on schedule for hair and makeup and I was relieved. I arrived to say hi to the bride and to pick up her place cards that she "forgot" at the wedding ceremony rehearsal. She handed me a stack of BLANK place cards and a list. 

Bride (very casually): "I didn't have time to finish the place cards." 
Me: (trying not to show any emotion, and also very casually): "Ok - don't worry I'll take care of it!"
(INSIDE I WAS SCREAMING), "Why are you giving me blank cards on the day of your wedding?"

I think I threw them to my assistant to take care of at the country club and then drove to the church to get ready for the ceremony. Someone was handing out programs and the wedding coordinator from the church was there so I just was there to help manage little things, put on boutonnieres and corsages - easy things! I waited for the parents of the bride and groom to arrive at the church and get them settled. 

I saw this woman come into the church. She looked like the mother of the bride, I told myself, but last night at the rehearsal her hair was shoulder length and today it was past her waist. But I digress, her dress was really what I was trying to figure out. It had a bevy of bright red and blue sequins all over this diaphanous royal purple chiffon. The chiffon was so delicate and floaty. And flimsy. REALLY FLIMSY. I had this corsage with about half a dozen roses on it and I was thinking - "How am I going to pin this heavy and large corsage on this FLIMSY dress?" Time was a-wasting so I went for the kill. I weaved a large corsage pin into the flimsy royal purple chiffon and somehow managed to affix it to the stems of the roses in the corsage. I was so proud of myself! But I knew that I needed to secure it with more pins so I bent down into my trusty emergency kit to grab another pin to make sure the corsage would stay in place.

What happened next was very unfortunate.

As I went to pick up the pin and stand back up, all I could see was flowers - roses - a bundle of them, coming straight towards me like a spaceship's re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere at 17,544 miles per hour. And what do you do when you see something hurtling towards you at some indiscernible speed? You either duck or you try and catch it. I always like a challenge so I went to catch it. But I didn't catch petals, or stems of a flower, or even the pretty ribbon that wrapped around them stems. I didn't even get pricked by the pin. I did NOT catch the corsage.  I caught something much more than that. 

My hands landed on the Mother of the Bride's bare breasts.

Yes - you read that right. The wedding planner went to second base with the Mother of the Bride. The term OMG wasn't coined yet. But if it had been, I would have been screaming "OMG" and "OMFG". But trust me, inside I was screaming. And whatever space was not being used for screaming was asking "WHY?"

"WHY was I touching breasts and not flowers?"

It turns out that the Mother of the Bride (or the MOB as we call her in the business), had sewn her dress for the wedding and the night before the wedding she took the dress apart and starting sewing it again. Unfortunately she ran out of time and  didn't have time to finish sewing the dress. Yes, dear readers, the dress was not finished. The day of her daughter's wedding and she went to the church in a dress that was half sewn. 

There was a lot of shock when I touched her breasts. There was a lot of embarrassed apologies on my behalf. A lot of inflections of "I'm sorry",

I'm so sorry! (dropping my hands immediately off her breasts)
I'm SOOOO SORRY!! (picking up the corsage off the floor)
I'm SO VERY SORRY! (still trying to look away and mortified)

And through it all the MOB was decidedly cool. Checked out even. She didn't even flinch or look embarrassed as I was. I mean, I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Her lack of reaction confused me. It took me a few moments to realize that she had taken some sort of medication to "relax" her for the day of the wedding. (I needed some of that STAT!) Luckily because of  her relaxed attitude i got the dress quickly back over her breasts and also thanks to some duct tape, a lot of pins and some good old fashioned luck, the corsage was finally in place.

The ceremony happened and the MOB walked down the aisle and she even did a reading and her dress and even her hair stayed in place.  It turns out that the waist long hair was thanks to hair extensions she bought at the local mall kiosk. 

And at the end of the day, the bride and groom were married. That's always the end goal. No matter what obstacles are hurled towards you, the end goal is always the same. And you do it with a smile and you never let them see you sweat. Even if you are screaming inside. 

I doubt the bride even knows this story because while all this was going on she was in her final stages of primping before she was on her way to the church.

And that's fine by me.