Part four of four: The Family Women Holy Tribunal
Did you think that was it? Did you think you could be done with such a simple happy ending?
Of course we’re not done here!
Because creative writing courses, at this point, teach you to add some kind of a dramatic turn of events, a conflict of some kind.
My favourite kind is internal conflict
That’ it, the eternal everpresent: Guilt.
After all dad gave me a great dress, and everybody loved it… yet I couldn’t shed my doubts.
That’s when I decide to confide in my aunt C., who goes by the same diktat as Randy “You have to like it, you will wear it!”
The half blessing cheers me up a little.
“You know what?” she goes on “we’re organizing a night out with all the girls, to try on our gowns, the accessories and all these things”.
Oh gosh. The Family Women Holy Tribunal.
So we get organized, grandma’s making pasta salad, aunt L. is bringing icecream, aunt C. is hosting us all at her place, I’m going to suggest a Martini night but since there are minors (and we’re lacking of people to curse) I don’t insist and my mom brings along the fun: her box of vintage earrings, from the 60s to the 80s.
Sadly her mussle earring were missing (I swear she has a pair of clipon earrings made with the shell of a mussle, all decorated on the edge… ah the 80s…), all the others I remember are there, and they bring great times to my cousin E. … actually we all laugh, to be honest. You can go from hippie to Madonna’s cosplay just by changing a “clips” (like my grandma calls them).
Anyway, we start our private runway, and I don’t know why but “the girsl” take forever to change, I’m starting to fear that on the wedding day alar clocks will start ringing at five in the morning (the ceremony is at 11am), sigh.
First one is my grandma, who warns us not to pay to much attention to her bolero: she still needs 50cm of strass ribbon to finis it. From the bedroom comes a (it was in dialect, it was much more fun that way, but anyway) “Oh gosh, I left the needle in!!!”.
We’re laughing at anything to be honest: hairy and hairless legs, push up bras, fluo orange watches, earrings matched like on a christmas tree, heels that look like they came from Mr Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. (In the meanwhile we kill a Viennetta, the big one U_U).
In the end it’s up to me, first goes the violet plastic bag, I wobble into the living room (I’m not used to heels, ok?), I have barely the time to say “I feel like a plastic bag” that my mom, E., aunt C. and aunt L. start chanting “Yooouuu looooooook sooo goooooood!”
But here’s when my grandma, who bravely faced the leftover needle, goes “You’re right, you look like a plastic bag”.
Thank you grandma, I’ve always known I’m your favourite one, but don’t worry, we’re not telling to the other grandchildren. I’m only writing it online so the whole world can read it.
Heartwarmed by my favourite grandma I put on the dress I got out of the chinese website (that came in with unbelievable custom fees… and that I had already tried on as excited as a little girl), I totter back to the living room.
If we had been at the stadium, they would have made a wave.
And after all the mess made with earrings (E.’s fun was in making us try on every single pair of earring “Try these ones, or these! And these ones, come one try these ones too”… little tireless gremlin!!!), after my aunt C. trying on all the dresses we brought, after E. tried on all the heels available, what I can say is:
Green dress WINS.
And THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is a happy ending.
I’m going to review the green dress, and most of all the website I got it from and the experience with them, in another post