Ravin's Ramblings

I will attend more weddings in the next three months than I have in my life. Let me tell you, this is causing me no small amount of anxiety! Mostly because I will likely see people I haven’t seen in a decade or more. You don’t understand, these are people who have been very important influences in my life! These are people with whom secrets were shared, souls were poured out, and eternal bonds of companionship were formed! There’s Miss Dances on Tables (she and I go waaaaaaay back), there’s Mrs. My Life is Perfect (who has her own line of exercise videos, three children – all natural births – and a PhD thank you very much), we can’t forget Mr. I’ll Always Love You (yeah, it was a bad break up, he cried and I yelled at him for crying), and last but not least Mr. You Lied (and I still haven’t forgotten how he was arrested for soliciting an undercover officer).


Firstly, if I could even find a table I felt was sturdy enough to support my, ahem, womanly curves, I’m pretty sure taking off my bra under my T-shirt and flinging it onto the moose head would be something akin to a bad horror movie. I can see it all too clearly…and in slow motion…myself after tee many martoonies flailing about with Miss Dances on Tables. We’re having a good time, my eye makeup is smudged from the tears of laughter from those “remember when” stories and I’m squinting at my husband in what is supposed to be a sexy bedroom eyes gaze, but it really just looks like I can’t read the happy hour menu. She talks me into going for broke, and in a moment of disastrous decision making, I take off my bra, which would be the kind of white support monstrosity you would expect VW to engineer instead of the barely there VS number one would expect to see. I fling it in a pathetic display of girlish playfulness toward the wall. It goes hurtling end over end toward the moose, people duck out of the way; they scream in terror as one cup completely suffocates the moose head, blinding him from the sight of me still seizuring away to the music, winking at my husband (who is hiding under a table), and completely oblivious to the horror that has ensued.


Mrs. My Life is Perfect then saunters up to me in her 5” stilettos with a patronizing smirk on her face, “Darling, it’s been so good to see you!” she tells me as she hands me her business card, “Call me in the morning, I have a business proposal for you.” I would smile, thinking how cool it was to see her again, and only after I began nursing the hangover the next day would I realize she was calling me fat.


Mr. I’ll Always Love You would join me out on the deck while I cooled off. He’d strike up a conversation that would end with “It was really good seeing you again.” Translation: I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Meanwhile I’m having another display of horrible decision making abilities and contemplating actually thanking Mr. You Lied to Me because, after all, I did start dating my incredible husband immediately after we broke up…but I can’t seem to find him to tell him because he’s sitting at the bar, avoiding the awkward introduction, and quietly thanking his lucky stars for that one crazy night in Tijuana!


Okay, okay, fine. I’m being overly dramatic. Honestly, I’m not that girl anymore (or rarely), so why would I expect them to be the same? I haven’t even over indulged in about a decade (well, in public anyway) so there’s zero chance of any of that coming to pass…But seriously, would it be too inappropriate to hire a stunt double with a PhD in Western Literature and is an aerobics instructor on the side to masquerade as me for the next three months? She can even drive the RX7!

(then)




(now)