The long awaited event finally arrived. The bride looked radiant, the groom looked dashing, the ceremony went smoothly with small obstacles here and there, but nothing major. But that's for the bride and groom to tell, in their own blogs. This is my blog, so of course I would talk about me.

A few months ago, a very good friend asked me to be her maid of honour. I was very happy for her, but I was also terrified. I had never ever done it before and I don't want to stuff things up for her. All I knew I knew from TV, as usual. I accompanied my friend to choose her wedding gown and veil. Then I received a call from Mom, asking me to come home. She didn't sound like her usual self and her speech was muffled, like somebody with stroke, so I left everything and flew home. Mom's condition was awful. She had a seizure a few days before I came and scared the heck of everybody. When I arrived she was a bit better, but as I mentioned in a previous blog, she hurt her back and ended up bed-bound. It was hard leaving her, but I knew she was in very capable hands.

Back in Sydney, it was very hard to switch from sad mode to happy mode. I didn't think of my mother all the time, of course, but somehow I kept thinking of her when we went out to look for accessories, shoes, and other things. Maybe because of the contrast. There I was preparing for a party while my mother was lying in bed staring at the wall. I tried to tell my friend and the bride's maid about my mother's condition, but I guess they didn't want to spoil the happy mood or had a lot already on their plates so they quickly changed the subject.

While I was Jakarta, Mischa's other good friend, Fifi helped Mischa with the preparation. I was actually very glad because I didn't have to feel very guilty about not helping Mischa. And if indeed I had to go home before the wedding, Mischa would be in good hands. Maybe God heard my mental conflict and it turned out I had a lot of assignments on Monday, so I had good reasons not to come along for other shopping trips.

After we found all that the bride needed for the big day, it was our turn. We started looking for bridesmaid gowns. Those who knew me well probably knew that apart from wearing swimsuits at the swimming pool I never wore anything above my knee since my last PE session in high school. I never wore sleeveless shirts since I turned 10. And I never ever wore tank tops. If you ever shopped for bridesmaid outfits in Sydney you would know that they always have either plunging necklines or bustiers. And I don't have boobs for those dresses to hang on to. I was really hoping we could find something with a short jacket or a shawl. The first day of the hunt was a disaster. I didn't even have to complain. My friends could see for themselves how bad those dresses looked on me, while the other bridesmaid always looked stunning. Somehow we managed to find something not too revealing in the mother-of-the-bride section. That was a relief. I began to feel a bit better.

The following week we continued making the bonbonnier and planned for the hen's party. At this stage I received news that my mom was undergoing radiation therapy and seemed to improve. I had made up my mind to go home after the wedding. I was very depressed. Maybe that was why many of my childhood illnesses returned. It was strange. The palm of my hands were full of small pockets of clear liquid. I used to have this regularly when I was at school. I had a very bad case on ingrown toenail. This was also a problem I had when I was in secondary school. I told my family about my decision, and they immediately went into emergency mode. My brother took all of us out for dinner and lectured me for half an hour. He hardly ever said two words to me these days so it was surprising. Even my niece took me out for a drive to talk to me, because she was worried. But the deciding talk came from my sister. She texted me and asked me to call her. She told me not to worry about Mom; that everybody there was looking after her. My sister said she was okay about driving to and from her home outside the city to take Mom to the hospital and that I should think of myself too. I felt a heavy weight lifted. The bubbles on my hands dried up and faded away.

We had a wonderful time at the hen's night pottery class. I was only a bit worried because my toe was still swollen and I wouldn't be able to wear heels, so my dress, which is a bit too long in heels, would be really very long. I worry about the compulsory dance. But anyway, the morning came. We arrived and started with the make up and hair. I hadn't had make up on my face since 2004. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't complain too much. It started raining. We were a bit concerned, but rain was still better than scorching heat because of our dresses. I googled maid of honour the day before and found out some of the duties that I didn't know before. And with the rainy weather, the bridesmaids were really useful, protecting the bride's gown from mud. We made it to the church. The flower girls marched in. The live music by my nieces was beautiful. Fifi glided down the aisle. I went next. I stumbled a few times because of the darn dress, but at least I didn't fall. The bride and her father went in next. Perfect. The atmosphere solemn, happy and relaxed at the same time.

Time passed quickly and before we know it it was time for the reception. After meal me and Fifi made our way to the cottage to freshen up. On the way back we found the best man, half drunk, rehearsing his speech. Somebody is more worried than I am, I thought, and unembarrassedly I immediately felt better. When it was time to dance, I looked at the bride and the groom's faces. They looked like they were about to jump off a plane without parachutes, but they did well. A big finale where the groom lifted the bride and turned round and round. Big applause. Then our turn. It's just left right left right step. Very easy. I didn't trip. Thank God. I danced with the groom's best friend. He twirled me around a few times. It was fun. I also danced with the bride's father, which was awkward. And he was even more uncomfortable than I was. Hehehe.. Then it was over. Phew..

My toe, which had been bombarded with three sets of antibiotic without success, suddenly started to heal. I thought of writing about the whole experience, but kept putting it off. Most of it would be about me complaining anyway. I hate parties, I hate to socialise among strangers, I hate wearing a dress, I hate make-up, I hate party tantrums, but anyway it's over, I survived. I'm glad I did it. I hope I never have to do it again for other friends or relatives, but of course I will if they ask.