When the time came to repeat my wedding vows many years ago, I froze like an Eskimo nudist. Being an uncommonly shy person, I was so paralyzed with fear that I was unable to utter a single word of my vows other than a quivery “I do.”
It was a very low-key wedding, attended by only immediate family and close friends. By not having the opportunity to be a Bridezilla, had I missed out on the opportunity to be a glamorous Princess for a few hours?
That’s why when I was asked to chaperone the local high school’s prom, I jumped at the chance. Here was my chance and I was going to milk it for all it was worth.
When the big night arrived, after hours of primping and preening, I emerged from my dressing room with a twirl and a flourish. It took several minutes for the rustling of acres of crinoline and lace to settle over a hoop so large that the area under my skirt had its own weather system. On my head was a glittering tiara the size of a candelabra.
“Who are you supposed to be?” asked my escort. “Scarlet O’Hara?”
“Fiddle-dee-dee,” I replied haughtily. “Bring the carriage around, Rhett, it is time for the grand ball and I am feeling a bit woozy. I just may swoon.”
“Maybe you need to loosen that corset, Scarlet. It may have given you the waist of a wasp, but your eyes are bulging like Kermit the Frog. And stop calling me Rhett!”
When we arrived at the prom, I remained seated for so long that he asked in annoyance, “Aren’t you going to get out of the car?”
“A lady always waits for her gallant escort to help her alight from the carriage and then sweeps her into his manly arms and carries her into the ballroom.”
“Carry you?” he asked. “Are your legs broken?”
“You, Sir, are no gentleman! I am but a helpless flower of the South. My dainty, bird-like ankles and delicate feet would never carry me up that grand staircase.”
“You?” he asked. “Dainty? You have legs the size of tree stumps and feet like Sasquatch.”
“Carry me before I wallop you with my parasol!” I growled.
“Okay, okay! Oomph! Have you put on a few pounds lately?”
After a lengthy struggle, I finally achieved ground clearance and he staggered valiantly up the steps, weaving from side to side, as he grunted in red-faced exertion. We were nearly at the top when my hoop skirt flipped up and got caught on the outstretched finger of a statue of General Robert E. Lee, leaving me dangling in mid-air and swinging like a Confederate flag in a stiff breeze.
“Now how will I get to the prom?” I wailed.
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”