My Face Hates Me

This weekend was the wedding of our good friends, Bryan and Erin. They are a fantastic couple, and Alex and I spend a lot of time with them. Alex plays lots of nerdy computer games with Bryan while Erin and I roll our eyes and talk about celebrities. They were the couple Alex conspired with when on his original proposal plan, before my job kinda went and ruined it. So I've been looking forward to this wedding for months. Alex was a groomsman and I was to read a lovely passage from Colossians. Friday night, we all gathered at the gorgeous church to rehearse. I didn't get a ton of shots of the church, but check out how beautiful it is:



After the rehearsal, we headed to nearby Italian restaurant for dinner. And while this is not a fantastic picture of me (in fact, I'm not even the focus. I'm not sure WHO the focus was supposed to be, but the bride-to-be took the picture, so it was her weekend and her prerogative), but I wanted to point out that I looked normal. Tired. But normal. Except for that stupid red circle around my face. Those arrows totally screwed with my peripheral vision, you know what I'm saying?



So let's fast forward to Saturday morning. I wake up. I stumble into the bathroom because I feel ill. I look in the mirror and notice I look odd. And then I puke.
And my face is no longer white. It is red. RED. RED. RED. Scary, terrifying, I think I have the plague RED. I lay back down because, frankly, I honestly hoped it would just GO AWAY with sleep.

But then I threw up again and decided maybe I should do something. I called Alex (who was already be-tuxed and doing groomsmen-type things at the church) and he convinced me to go Urgent Care and get a magical shot that would make the rash disappear. The bride herself had gotten a rash earlier this year and had gone to Urgent Care and the magical shot made it all go away. If it worked for her, it would work for me. Right?

I shouldn't have driven and I'm not sure how I ever got there, but I eventually found myself at Urgent Care. Why didn't I ask someone to come drive me? I have no idea. I didn't want to inconvenience anyone in their wedding preparations, I suppose. Which is STUPID, by the way. I should have called someone and it is a miracle I wasn't in an accident because I could barely hold myself up high enough to see out the windshield. Once I made it to Urgent Care, I was hunched over and crying and told the nice nurse lady that I was about to throw up.

I did not lie.

No sooner had she gotten me away from the prying eyes of those in the waiting room, but I puked into the closest receptacle I could find. Fortunately, it was a trash can. Everything after that is a blur, but I ended up getting two shots, puking again, getting another shot for the puking, and then being sent home with merely an hour to get ready and get to the church.

I sped home in my non-nauseated state, got dressed, called Alex's brother and told him to find someone to read for me, and took off for the church. I, of course, got lost because downtown Dayton is just like every other downtown and you can never turn right when you want to. I finally saw the church (with the wedding party lined up), parked the car, literally ran PAST THE BRIDE and into the church, and sat down just as the mothers began walking down the aisle to light the candles. Whew!

The wedding was beautiful and in my haste to get to the church and not throw up at the same time, I forgot the camera. However, the camera came to the reception! Where I looked like this:


AAAAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! Who is that scary, monster lady!? What is wrong with her? Leper! Leper!

When I got to the reception, the bridal party was taking pictures in the lobby. Alex was there and told me that when the bride saw me, she did a double take and had to compose herself before speaking to me. AWESOME. Because that, my friends, is what I want a girl to remember on her wedding day. Me scaring her. But she recovered nicely and told me she loved me and sent me on my merry leprosy-laden way.

Fortunately, the multiple shots at Urgent Care did work and I felt great by the time dinner began. (Also, that picture of me at the reception? Was taken in order to show how much I had improved since the wedding. Sadly, I don't have any pre-wedding scariness to share, but it was actually worse, if you can believe that.) And all night, people would randomly come up to me and talk to me about how my face was clearing up. There's nothing like having your face be a conversation starter at someone else's wedding.

I suppose it all turned out okay. I got a sneak peak at Alex in a tux (fantastically handsome, of course) and I got to celebrate my friends' marriage without groaning in a corner miserably.



I also wore a sombrero and danced like a goof with my future husband. I feel as though that is how every post and every night should end for the rest of our lives. You?