Bollywood Bridesmaid

It's been quite some time since I actually talked about the life of a bridesmaid.  Which, I must admit, is now over.  How odd.  For what seemed like forever, I was the go-to bridesmaid with at least 2 weddings a year.  

I retired the taffeta and uncomfortable shoes last September, in a dear old friend's wedding.  And what a wedding to go out on.  It was a four-day Bollywood wedding that had its fair share of drama, colour, and Bhangra dancing.  So I am sure this is going to be at least a four-parter friends.

Let's start with ensemble number one.  Miss Indian Bride had them made for us in India.  They are what she referred to as 'suits' - leggings and a tunic top.  Mine was a lovely peacock green colour.  And although I gave MIB my exact measurements, the little Indian ladies must have assumed they were in metric, or in imperial, or in some magical measurement that they thought there was no possibility of someone being as big as me.  Either way, the leggings didn't go past my ankles and the tunic got stuck on my breasts.  

Needless to say, the outfit needed tailoring.  But one can't exactly take an Indian suit to any old tailor.  One must go to the Indian tailor in Little India.  That means I had to find it.  And I was with my father. . . .

We traipsed to 49th and Main, searched out the address which was at the top of a tiny flight of stairs above a Bollywood movie store, down a long hallway and into a tiny apartment that doubles as a store front. The little lady pointed me to the change room so I could show her what needed letting out.  

Do you see a problem here?  Like the fact that the tunic didn't fit the first time?

So I peeled it on again, sans the leggings which I told her to let ALL the way out, stepped out of the change room only to have her shake her head and shoo me back in.  

Yeah.  I know.  I told her it was tight.  

Then it happened.  I got stuck.  Stuck pulling it off my body in such a way that my arms were sticking up and I could not get the tunic up or down.  

There are things in life that should never happen.

1.  You should never pass gas in a library.  

2.  You should never pee you pants laughing (in public anyways).  

3.  And you should Never Ever have your father with you when trying on bridesmaid outfits that are too small.  Because inevitably, he will have to come into the change room (which is too small, so you BOTH have to go out in front of the tailor and the grandmother who stares at you with horror), close his eyes (because you yelled at him to do so) and rip a tunic off of your body that will also take your bra halfway up your shoulders.  

A moment that we would both like to forget.  

The leggings were let out ALL the way only for me to discover that the damn material stretches and is supposed to be gathered around your ankles.  Because I let mine out, they stretched so much so, that hem fell past my toes giving me the look of Kermit the frog.  So when I forgot, yes forgot, the groom's wedding ring in the car and had to dash out of the temple to get it, a foot of green material extended past my toes and almost hit the bride's aunt in the face.