A good friend got married last weekend and an army of us trooped to Baguio for the wedding. I was unfortunately coerced to be a bridesmaid so I spent an entire day trying to fit into a pink dress and having my face painted with multi-colored gunk.
Then the wedding photographer, who seemed to have watched way too many episodes of America’s Next Top Model, wanted us to do mortifying poses that involved parasols, flailing arms and protruding shoulders. He also kept on telling us to “bow our backs.” What the hell does that even mean? Are we supposed to be channeling Quasimodo? I was torn between slaughtering him on the spot and correcting his grammar.
It was still a beautiful wedding though, the Dunkin’ Donut motif of hot pink and orange notwithstanding. The skies were clear and the soft afternoon light made the Bell Amphitheater at Camp John Hay even more picturesque.
The bride wore sneakers which had us foaming at the mouth with envy since we were all wearing heels. Good thing I brought my trusty pair of trail shoes. Yes, I brought trail shoes at a wedding. Deal with it.
Congrats Monica and Jan! Start dreading the day I decide to get married. That wedding would be payback time for the pink dress you made me wear.