I was ugly at the wedding. My dress. My beaded headband. I ended up wearing my old pink Birkenstocks. I looked like a dork. I will forevermore have to suffer with pictures of me in a headband that was best left next to the sink and used for holding one's hair back (if one had hair) while scrubbing the face. The back of my head is bald and no one told me. I should have worn a hat. I should have been told how horrible I looked in the dress I chose. I should have been told how stupid and ugly I looked. SOMEONE should have taken me aside and said, "uh, darling/mom/hon/lady, you look absolutely ridiculous in that get-up. Go buy something NOW!"
Instead, I wince and weep as I look at the few pictures I have seen of myself already and will never, never show you all how stupid I looked. It's why I haven't shown you anything. Because I looked horrible. And I don't say that often. I am usually pretty narcissistic about how I look. Why, oh why, did I have to look my absolute worst at my daughter's wedding?
Her step-mother, on the other hand, looked like a gilt bird. I was a sparrow. With mange.