The Last Wedding

I just survived every single girl's worst nightmare: I attended my younger sibling's wedding.

Talk about anxiety. First of all, I don't "do" weddings. I stopped attending weddings about six years ago because I always feel like an ugly duckling at a swan sorority party. Because it's a wedding, everybody has marriage on the brain, so that's the first thing they want to know-my marital status. Here's how my typical wedding reception conversation goes:
     Nosy Partygoer: So, are you married?
     Me: No.
     Nosy Partygoer: Oh. Dating anyone?
     Me: No.
     Nosy Partygoer: Why not? You must be too picky.

What he or she lacks in conversational variety is made up for with a judgment and superiority. I do admire the efficiency of being able to shine a spotlight on my singleness while making me feel like it's my fault I'm alone (and, P.S. According to my therapist, it's really more my father's fault, but that's another column altogether).

So, I found myself obligated to attend an event that I absolutely did not want to attend; a wedding in Los Angeles, where all of my brother's friends are models and actors. In other words, no matter how much weight I lose, I'm going to look frumpy next to anyone whose career requires working out six hours per day. In addition, I could look forward to basking in all kinds of family drama for the weekend. The highlights: my parents haven't spoken in twenty years except through attorneys; my dad was bringing his new squeeze that he started dating one month after his wife committed suicide; and my aunt and uncle were miffed because my brother didn't invite our cousin to the wedding because my mom is mad at said cousin because said cousin doesn't kiss my mom's butt in adequate quantities.

Then, there's the fact that out of ALL of my family (aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, and step-cousins that I'm not even blood-related to), and ALL of the bride's family, I am the ONLY ONE who has never been married or engaged (and remember I am 40-years-old).

To be honest, if there was any way I could have gotten out of going, I would have. But it's my younger brother, so I really did have to go. Talk about my private hell: being forced to fly across the country to attend a wedding that I don't want to attend where I will be the only single family member.

To make a long story printable, I'll skip over the more traumatic parts of the day, and share with you an upside from this hellacious day: I got to visit with my favorite uncle-we holed up at the reception and caught up on each other's lives. He has great difficulty getting around, so I was happy to stay seated with him so he wasn't left alone at the table during the bouquet toss (which I normally hide from in the ladies' room) and the cake cutting.

Speaking of cake, there was another upside: with all those models and actresses around (not to mention all the fad dieters in Hollywood), there were a lot of cupcakes that went uneaten. I think it's a great idea to have cupcakes instead of proper slices of cake because it's easier to hide my bingeing when I don't have forks and plates stacking up (less evidence). So, there I was-hiding in the corner eating somewhere between four and six (ok, maybe more - what are you, the Dessert Police?) cupcakes until I felt sick, which was alright because the sugar-induced nausea edged out the depression and anxiety.

To be fair, nobody asked me about my love life. Maybe my family is more sensitive than I give them credit for; maybe they don't really care about my marital status; maybe my mom suggested they stay away from that topic. Whatever the reason, I was grateful to not have to defend my singleness (especially since it's so un-ladylike to answer those questions while spewing cupcake crumbs all over everybody's fancy wedding attire).

And, to reward myself (in addition to the cupcakes) for making it through the last wedding I will hopefully ever have to attend, I treated myself to a week at a luxury resort in Mazatlan (on the Pacific Coast of Mexico).

Nothing like the sun, the spa, and cute waiters named Miguel to soothe a girl's ruffled feathers.and take off a few pounds from the cupcake binge.
I wish my brother and his new bride all the best, and I now happily and officially retire my wedding number. Unless I'm invited to a wedding where there will be cupcakes.