Brides and Bras

Frankie's cousin got married.

Is that not the most beautiful bride you've ever seen?

Seriously...glowing.

Weddings are fun, aren't they?

You get dressed up.

You drink wine.

You pick a dress that you can't wear a bra with.

Don't shake your head.

Listen...

Here's the deal.

Fancy dresses, unless you're 74, which I'm clearly not,

require you to go without a bra.

I should've been a hippie.

I sorta hate bras.

I like how pretty they can be.

You know the matchy kind with the lace

and coordinating panty.

But if I were to think of a time of day I'm happiest

it's when I take that dang thing off.

Remember friends, I wear one for 18 hours.

(do they still make that brand bra...I seem to remember

a commercial)

You could, I suppose, go with a

strapless concoction but if I were Pope

strapless bras would be accepted as penance.

They are horrible and fall down.

Or they have some weird silicon tape that digs into your

rib cages requiring two weeks of recovery.

Here's the other thing...

Weddings require dancing.

Sometimes weddings require riduculous dancing.

imagine me, doing the chicken dance

with the strapless bra around my ankles.

I did.

Imagine that.

Tit (ha) didn't happen because I didn't wear a bra.

And because what God gave me, my children took away

I now must buy my dress a size smaller so everything is

held in nice and tightly!

I won't embarrass you and put a picture of me showing off

the non bra dress. I might make you blush.

But notice my smile...

Don't I look happy?

Weddings (and braless days ) do that to me.

Congrats Donny and Katie.

May the road rise to meet you....

Me at the wedding....I'm dressed up and drinking wine.

I didn't cut anyone's meat.

Tell anyone to stop talking with their mouth full

or escort anyone to the potty.

Weddings are fabulous.

Adult weddings....divine!