I was hiding under my covers Saturday morning, until my sister, Regina, came to wake me up.
Somehow, I hoped that no one would notice me buried under the blankets, that I could stay there all day and avoid stuffing myself into the bridesmaid's dress.
No such luck.
My family was happy and excited about the wedding of a woman who has been like a sister to me and my sisters, and a daughter to my parents.
I was . . . what's that word. . . Oh yes. . . fat.
I think those who administer "Murphy's Law" could feel my pain, and did everything they could to add to my apprehension.
First, the straps on my bridesmaid's dress were too loose and had to be sewn back in place.
Next, I spent roughly an hour swearing, and sewing them.
Third, I washed my hair and got every product I could in my eyes.
Lastly, my glasses broke as I was running out of the door (I was already more than an hour late).
I told my parents and younger sister, "That's it. I'm not going. I'm going back to bed."
My dad fixed my glasses, and my mom and sister coaxed me out the door.
I got in my car and rushed to my fate.
(See My best friend's wedding, Part II)
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