My little sister was a beautiful bride, and I -- well, I was wicked pretty, people. Seriously, I know it's all about the bride, but I don't think I've ever felt that pretty or that much like a girl. I had a manicure and my hair was done and I was wearing a dress and heels, for chrissakes. It was like the prom I never went to. I went with old-fashioned film, so y'all are going to have to wait for photographic proof of my cuteness.
Weddings are wicked hard work, yo. I got up at the crack of dawn on Sunday to meet my sister for our hair appointment. I don't know how many of you have had your hair done professionally, but they hairspray every single inch of your hair. My stylist would comb out a tiny section of hair, hairspray the entire length, and then curl it. Then she pinned it all and enveloped me in a cloud of hairspray. (I drove with the windows down after the wedding, and my hair still didn't move. It was impressive.) Then there was the make-up application, the last minute dress steaming, and the group of us who had to help my little sister into her dress. She was beautiful, people. And I only cried a little bit. Then we took photos for 800 years. The ceremony itself was a flash, and the reception was just fun. (Except for trying to eat in that dress. That was a little difficult.) The bride and groom looked so happy, I almost didn't mind that my little sister got married.
I almost had a Sixteen Candles moment at the end of the night, when everyone got in a car to go back to the hotel, and I was all, "Who's driving me?" Luckily, I found a ride, because I can assure you, there was no Jake Ryan waiting for me. I ended the night with two margaritas with my aunt and uncle in the hotel bar, which was a little surreal but nonetheless fun. I can't believe the party's over. My little sister's on her honeymoon, my family's on their way back to Ohio, and I'll be back at work tomorrow.
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