Tomorrow is Writing Group Wednesday. I’m always happy to meet up with my writing buddies, but I’m especially excited to see everyone this week because I missed our last get together. (I was sick so I missed the fun.)
One thing we like to do in our group is to choose a writing assignment to share at the next meeting. It is interesting to see how we each begin with same idea, but go on to produce work unique to our individual styles and interests. I wasn’t there to help choose the most recent prompt, but they forwarded it to me after the meeting:
Write about an occasion where every time you think about it, you can’t help but remember what you were wearing.
Let me say right now, while I love these ladies dearly, I would never, ever, in a million years, have chosen this prompt. I’m sure if I had been there I would have been campaigning for a different topic. It’s not because there is anything wrong with the prompt, per se, but because, as I have mentioned before, I’m not a person you would characterize as “on trend” fashion wise. I’m the sort of girl who can wear her shirt inside out all day and never notice. I have socks older than my children. If something needs ironing, I wear it with wrinkles or not at all. I generally look nice, wrinkles and hanging tags notwithstanding, but no one is looking to me for fashion tips, that much is certain.
It’s no shocker, then, when I say clothing doesn’t register as a critical element in most of my life stories. I have spent much of the last two weeks trying to remember an occasion where my clothing stood out as a significant “player” in the action, and for the most part, I came up blank.
I can remember the obvious ones: my first kiss, my first day as a teacher, and what I was wearing the day Brian proposed. I wanted to write about an original event, however, something I could fashion into a story guaranteed to grab and hold the reader’s interest, not a boring transcript of the clothes I was wearing on my first date. (It was the 80’s, trust me, you really do not want to know.)
After much thought, I’ve decided that, by far, the most memorable piece of clothing was donned on my wedding day.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking.
I just said I didn’t want to write about something trite and predictable, and now I decide to go with the clothes I wore on my wedding day? And you’re absolutely right – at first glance, anyway.
I (like many brides) invested untold hours in the selection of my wedding gown and the other accessories and jewelry I would adorn myself with on the big day. I might have been lacking in fashion sense, but my bridesmaids were not. They helped me with every detail from the selection of the “dress of my dreams” to the choice of antique pearl jewelry, my garter, and sheer hose. I wore new ballet flats on my feet (no heels, as I am already quite tall), and carried a crochet trimmed handkerchief made by my departed grandmother.
Every single item was chosen with thoughtful care – for this was one of the most important days in my life. I can still remember the ritual of dressing in the hours before the ceremony. My sisters and soon to be sister-in-law assisted me as I applied make up and styled my hair. They helped me step into my voluminous gown, and fussed happily with the veil and bouquet. With their help, I pulled it off.
It remains the one shining day of my life where everything I wore was PERFECT.
Well, almost perfect. You see, hours later, when that wonderful day was winding down, as the guests were one by one slipping away from the reception festivities, I went upstairs to change out of my wedding dress into the traveling clothes I would wear as we left for our honeymoon in Las Vegas. As I stepped out of my beautiful dress (which by day’s end had become a chore to wear – do you have any idea how much one of those gowns weighs? It’s like carrying a fifty pound backpack with you everywhere you go!), I reached for my change of clothes, and in that moment I happened to notice something.
My panties were on sideways.
I had spent the entire day with my underwear waistband around my right thigh and one of the leg openings around my waist. Since they were made from stretchy lace, I didn’t notice this when I put them on and felt no discomfort throughout the day. I stood there for a moment, horrified, but then, after recovering from the initial shock, I burst out with laughter.
It was so me.
So, that’s my story. I can’t think of my wedding day without remembering the love of my family and friends, and of the happiness I felt when I saw Brian smiling at me as I walked down the aisle. I remember the light shining through the stained glass windows in church, and the joy I felt when celebrating at the reception.
I also remember my sideways underwear, and then I just can’t help myself — I laugh every time.