You're Invited

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Every girl imagines her wedding day and I’m no different. I don’t imagine my hair or dress, I don’t even imagine the groom in any substantive way. I just imagine how I feel and I imagine all of you. I imagine dancing with my brother and sister to something goofy and uniquely jamming in our family, like Super Bon Bon by Soul Coughing. I imagine my mother dancing with my relatives and me to Work That by Mary J. Blige. I imagine my father sitting out all the dances and watching us with a smile, the smile I know from all the dances I sat out before this dance. I imagine him saying something he means well but is actually pretty horrible during our dance like, “He seems like a good guy. Remember that marriage can be even lonelier than being single.” I imagine feeling free; I don’t see my wedding as a subdued sophisticated and lovely affair. I see it as a tremendous celebration. A great party and great event to celebrate. After all the Jimmy’s, Mr. Coffee’s, Maybe’s, IBC’s and God knows who else, it would finally be right. It would be good and he would be good and if that isn’t a reason to have a big party, I don’t know what is. The man I can imagine having this party with is someone who thinks it would be funny to interupt our wedding march and break into dance to DMX’s Up in Here and then return to a stately walk down the aisle like nothing ever happened. I’ve floated the aisle march idea by my mom who never objects to anything, but strongly objects to this so it would never happen but he’d have to think it would be funny if we could do it.

I guess I have this feeling that the man I marry would love me in a way that I could finally relax into being me, all of me, silly me, in public. My wedding day would be my coming out ceremony. Like What-Not-To-Wear in that revelatory moment when the person realizes it was the clothes all along and not them that needed to change. Ironically, learning that something could complement them as they are, something could bring out the very best of them and even soften their harsher features and lumpy bits, does end up changing the only thing that needed changing, the way they saw and treated themselves. But they needed first for someone else to help them see reality and then introduce them to the possibilities. If some ensemble of clothing, hair, and makeup could change the way I see my body and my face, is it wrong to hope that there is a person out there for me (and I for him) that could have an even more positive and profound impact? If he exists for me, you all are not going to want to miss this party. It is going to be off. the. hook. Fo shizzle.*

*Brosef, you had better stop gagging right this minute. I’m serious. You beat-box in the shower. Don't judge me.