Confessions of a Chick in Paris

Confessions of a Chick in Paris

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The Final Chapter: Tantrums and Tiaras

November 23, 2009 , , , , , , , , ,

It was probably August, when I first started writing about my big sis’s wedding.

Well many bloggy interruptions and build-ups later, I bring you the final chapter…

…After epic preparations to make myself look hot in the Indian way (see last week’s post), I arrived at the reception hall by 6:45pm. Since the bride and groom wouldn’t roll in for another two hours, all eyes were on the first families. I’ve experienced this phenomenon as well when attending other weddings.Β  It’s like you suddenly become obsessed with the bride or groom’s family: what outfits they’re wearing, how their hair looks. And if they toss you a glance or even a smile, you feel special.

At my sister’s reception a similar fawning occurred, as people were practically pushing each other for a slice of my attention. It was weird, because normally I don’t even like these people. One of them tried to touch my hair and I almost punched her.

Yup, I was definitely channeling a Naomi Campbell style of self-importance…

Before I could throw my cellphone at any unsuspecting heads, the party ended for me…only fifteen minutes in. That was the moment when the stress of emceeing hit me like a truck.

We did have a couple of wedding assistants for the day, but since these blondies were experiencing their first ever Indian wedding, they were more excited about being in pictures vs. helping me organize the evening’s events.

I was so preoccupied I couldn’t even enjoy the array of appetizers! (which in Indian world, is as much food as two normal dinners). I managed to down a few bites of something that would normally be delicious, but the nervousness made me nauseous. So from then on it was straight up gingerale.

After that, my brand new brother-in-law who was also my co-emcee dropped a bomb:

“Wahhhh…I feel sick and I can’t emcee with you. Sorry. Good luck.”

I later realized his illness was in fact a pansy-like shyness, since at 1am he was dancing it up like a party animal.

Man-bitch!

And so, rather frantically, I wrote in the edits.

Time flew by but my sister kept calling to tell me she was running late, and then more late still. The extra time made me all the more frantic, and it didn’t help when the lowly plebian “after-thought” guests kept approaching. Like it’s none of your business when the bride will get here! Just go sit down at your table in the back with the shittiest view!

When my sister and her husband finally arrived, and finally finished with photographs (and when she finally adjusted her tiara for the twentieth time…pfft), I ran to the podium to get things started.

And it actually wasn’t so bad.

I mean aside from having a shine slick on my face from nervousness and constant sweating (I do NOT want to watch that wedding video), I was charming. And funny. And confident. In fact, for a whole week following the wedding, my parents, parents’ friends, and relativesΒ  kept complimenting my performance. They said I reminded them of Indira Gandhi. The Indira Gandhi who was assassinated in 1984. Hmm…

With the stress of speeches and announcements mostly over, a new kind of stress came upon me:

-trying to kick the damn kiddie performers off the stage.

This army of boys must’ve kept on performing for something like…twenty minutes? It was song after song and costume change after costume change, with their stage mom standing next to me, yelling them along, and lining up the next coloured turban for the clothing switches.

To the audience, it was a show that wouldn’t end. Behind the scenes it was my sister and her husband screaming at me, telling me to shut it down.

So umm…I engaged in a yelling match with the stage mom. Tantrum style.

(what?)

She said the many songs were a part of the package deal. I said she would still get paid the same amount, but people were bored, so throw these kids in the van and move along!

She said no.

And she was scary-looking.

She then assured me we had reached the last song, and it would only last two more minutes.

Well it was TWO more songs and SEVEN more minutes.

When it was over we forgot all about it, but if made the reception less than perfect, and for that I feel permanently scorned.

Afterward everybody danced and ate the night away. Somewhere along the way I forgot to eat dinner. I REPEAT, I forgot to partake in a spectacular Indian buffet.

Sigh.

I was too busy being instructed to take candid pictures, or hoarding cupcakes so my sister could bring some home. Or making sure the kitchen staff sealed up the top tier of the cake instead of serving it (which they almost did).

I did get to eat a cupcake though. My one meal for the day.

On the negative side, I forgot to bring home the metal tiered cupcake stand (which was rented…oops. We never were able to retrieve it. A thieving kitchen worker is the only explanation).

And also I lost my sister’s camera.

Well I never said I was a PERFECT maid-of-honour…

End.

[So I think I’ll finish the ’09 blog with some memories of a recent trip to India. After that a brand new blog theme on the way for 2010—back to basics, that’s all I’ll say for now. I hope you don’t lose sleep over all the suspense of not knowing (even though I know you will…)]

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comments

Love the pictures!!

Jessica

November 23, 2009

thank you! πŸ™‚

Romi

November 28, 2009

I love that you do yearly themes. πŸ™‚

Corra McFeydon

November 23, 2009

thanks corra, it just all seems to wrap up neatly by the end of the year πŸ˜‰

Romi

November 28, 2009

I’m totally going to lose sleep over it!

Rad post, Romi, I love that you bitched out a stage mom! They’re scary!

Maytina

November 23, 2009

NO, I urge you to sleep well my friend! πŸ™‚

Romi

November 28, 2009

my favorite installment haha…after this blog i actually took a huge sigh of accomplishment on your behalf…

The Burg

November 23, 2009

you did NOT have a sigh of accomplishment on my behalf…awww…you’re too kind! πŸ™‚

Romi

November 28, 2009

Ha, before I read “shine slick” I was thinking, “golden.” You’re face is a thing to envy.I betcha a million dollars I’m the first person to call you golden.

so this is the end? That’s a cool idea to keep blogs to a topic. My blog is so angry and random, ha.

Shweta

November 24, 2009

you are SO the first person to call me golden, haha. And I might have a few more posts on this topic, then I will switch up the header, theme and About page and start over!!! (but I will keep the archives πŸ˜‰ )

Romi

November 28, 2009

My GOD! A whole year already? Craziness!

Grumpy

November 24, 2009

I KNOW….a year flies by! So why aren’t I married to Prince Charming yet?!?! πŸ˜‰

Romi

November 28, 2009

Loved hearing your memories of such a wacky event! Family drama is tough, but ripe with comedic gold.

I also love that someone was so awe-struck by your beauty that they tried to touch your hair! That’s when you know you’ve got it going on.

Jen512

November 25, 2009

maybe…but I also get pretty creeped out when near strangers touch my hair!!! And yes, there always seems to be comedy in family drama πŸ˜‰

Romi

November 28, 2009

Oh, I hate those “stage moms”! They just use their children to be the stars they never were, themselves! And their kids always end up maladjusted! I dated a couple of girls with moms like that–they were each too confused to have a relationship with anyone.

Scott

November 25, 2009

ya, that must be the thing worse than stage-moms, the offspring once they’re all grown up!

Romi

November 28, 2009

I loved this! Great story sweetie and well written. Have a Happy Thanksgiving πŸ™‚ Wait, your parents must have nothing to do now. I’d hide if I were you! LOL

Wiggy

November 25, 2009

hahaha…my parents mentioned it the other day…I need to RUN!!!!!!

Romi

November 28, 2009

Nothing against Indira, but you would totally kick her ass in a contest of beauty. πŸ™‚ And you’ve done a super job squeezing all these amusing words from that ungodly spectacle, er, wedding. I imagine that a lot of what you’ve learned here will apply when Romi’s wedding bells ring, hmmmmm?

I also admire your guts for telling off the stage mom. I mean delivering your critique. I can rest easy now that you’ve put this saga to bed and pleasantly anticipate the next Romiblog. ‘Back to basics’ is a nice tease. For me anyway.

May I offer a critique? Thanks I will. This sentence: Afterward everybody danced and ate the night away. It’s funny, but it also makes me think of zombies for some reason. So is that a good thing in this narrative?

David

November 26, 2009

HAHAHAHA….wow, it does make everyone sound like zombies…hmm…maybe I like that?? πŸ˜‰

And thanks for giving me a one-up on Indira, I hope some of these lessons can be nicely applied to my own wedding if I can only entrap my dream-groom πŸ˜‰

Romi

November 28, 2009

Can I just say that is a damn nice looking cake?? I thoroughly enjoyed your Indian Wedding series.

maleesha

November 29, 2009

thank you my friend! Glad you enjoyed it, took me forever (and the cake disappeared before I had a chance to try it 😦 …but it was made of the same stuff as the cupcakes, which was DELICIOUS πŸ™‚ )

Romi

December 13, 2009

Indira Gandhi wishes! Really though, you looked hot, Romi!

Dan

November 30, 2009

aww…thank you. You are my ego life-support πŸ™‚

Romi

December 13, 2009

“I was so preoccupied I couldn’t even enjoy the array of appetizers! (which in Indian world, is as much food as two normal dinners)”

That is so true!!!

Damn those kids….great to hear that everything went smooth….despite the hiccups here and there!!!

Wonderful read!!!

Salman

November 30, 2009

thank you for stopping by to read Salman! Glad you enjoyed it πŸ™‚

Romi

December 13, 2009

Loved it!!!!!!!!! I’m going to go ahead and give you a congrats on your comparison to Indira Gandhi despite her untimely death! Now onto bigger things…you forgot to eat…I’m beside myself! Well at least your one meal of the day was dessert (which I consider to be the most important aspect of a meal…and the reason I have to run three miles at the gym after work today :(:()

sammy25

December 2, 2009

yup…dessert is too good to pass up….so we must simply run ’till the ass jiggles no more πŸ˜‰

Romi

December 13, 2009

gurl I ran 4 miles yesterday…I attempted to impress a boy…I only hurt my knee….and my pride (per usual!)

sammy25

December 15, 2009

I feel like I was at your sister’s wedding, only I didn’t smile or buy her any gifts.

Hah.

Tirzah

December 13, 2009

ah…then I’ve done my job (mostly because I wouldn’t have wanted you to smile at her, HA πŸ˜‰ )

Romi

December 13, 2009

romi, you are so funny!

I can’t help but wonder if any of your family members read/ know about your blog. I can just imagine your sister reading through it with steam coming off her forehead and out of her ears!

rachelhamm

December 19, 2009

HAHAHA…they don’t read it from what I know of, or they probably would have smacked me big time by now πŸ˜‰

Romi

December 23, 2009

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