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Aging Confessions
Ok, let's admit one dastardly deed we did but never, heretofore,
told anyone about. Here goes mine . . .
I had to think awhile and then it
came to me with an avalanche of shame: I was at a very fancy
home alone. It was at my future in-laws’ where they had planted
their garden with pink and white petunias for a friend-of
the-family’s upcoming wedding. Mine was to come later but never
did materialize, possibly owing to the bad karma I created
there.
Anyhow, her gown was hanging on
the back of the master bedroom door and I simply had to try it
on, to picture myself in a swarm of satin and lace, a princess
awaiting her white knight. Oh, the cake would be chocolate with
raspberry filling and virgin icing. The harp woman would strum
heaven-sent harmony and all the guests would get giggly on
champagne.
But I digress . . .
I was slim in those days, but I
guess not emaciated because I was really tugging and pulling
this dream dress over my hips. “Dang!” I replied. “This girl
needs bulimics anonymous”
More tugging and swearing and
“r-r-r-r-r-rip!”
OH MY GOD!
Sweating, with trembling fingers,
I surveyed the damage and ascertained there was no way to fix
it. I rationalized, as minds are wont to do, that a few inches
of dragging hemline could easily have happened when the real
bride tried it on. Hell, she’d probably get it all grass stained
and for sure she’d only wear it once.
So I did one of the most shameful
things I’ve ever done in my life: I simply put it back on the
hanger and made it out the door faster than fat on fire.
I know you’re judging me now but,
c’mon; you must have done something terrible once and never
told, right? OK, maybe not terrible but perhaps unsavory?
Unbecoming? Ludicrous?
I’m just serving as the guinea
pig here to get you thinking about making amends. It can be most
freeing and is the right thing to do as we move ever closer to
our dirt naps.
As for my apology, I have no idea
what the girl’s name was; and at this point, I think an amends
would hurt her and especially me.
However, if you are reading this
now Ms. Bride, I do have a spare gown from my
wedding-that-never-materialized and I’ll gladly loan it to you .
. . or your daughter . . . or your great granddaughter . . .
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