My sister's bridesmaid dresses... (count as costumes, right? heh)
...were actually quite stunning. We had gorgeous strapless red floor-length gowns... No questionable colours or big floppy bows were to be found anywhere. Instead, the skirts were held out by what I can only describe as industrial-strength sandpaper-material.

After the ceremony the reception was held in a crowded veteran's bar, and about an hour in, my legs were chaffed to the point of bleeding. Lucky for me, my estranged husband had shown up directly before the ceremony, so I had someone to bitch to...

I'd gone outside to the car with my husband to have a smoke and get a bit of stress relief, and made my way back inside with a bowlegged gait, in an attempt not to exacerbate my already paining legs. Cue my father and his best friend of 40-some odd years pulling me aside for a wink and a nudge, then grabbing my sister to point out my walk and wink at and nudge her as well, and THEN grab everyone within reach to wink at and nudge about how naughty I'd been.

I became the butt of a joke about going outside for a quick screw in the car... in front of my grandparents & all sorts of Southern US bible-thumping folk... all because I couldn't admit to my sister that the dress she'd picked was tearing up my legs.

Strangely enough, the husband wasn't around to get pulled in...
(Ecclesia, Tue 17 Jan 2006, 14:31, Reply)