Saturday<\/strong>: The D-Day. I was anxious and excited, but in a good way. Since I did not succeed in buying the type of dress I had in my head (and I had absolutely no kind of dress in my head), I decided to pull this out of the previously-worn-trads-that-can-be-worn-again box. Biggest inspiration to wear this dress: it has over sized pockets that can hold the microphone, my pen, the reception program, and my business cards.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n This was outside the house before we left for the occasion. Igwe bought me the necklace on Friday, and I was reluctant to wear it because I didn’t want my necklace to be bigger than the bride’s.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n These pointy-edge glasses (I’m sure they have a name, but I don’t know it) were inspired by the pointy sleeves of the dress (This, too, probably has a name. But I don’t know it either). That said, it the temperature was hotter than it looked. 96 degrees with a chance of hell. Not cool – literally!<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Because I know you must be curious about what I looked like without the glasses. Sure, the first picture has me without glasses, but this one is different. It was taken under a tree!<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n The wedding was great. Motun, the bride looked the most beautiful I had ever seen her. She was glowing. Igwe and I were sitting at the back of the pew, him at the edge of the bench. We both weren’t paying attention when someone directed him to get out of his seat. I followed him. I don’t know what Igwe was thinking, but I thought we were being ushered to another seat, one closer to the rest of the congregation. Wrong!<\/p>\n Apparently, we were being directed to go for Thanksgiving = dance to the front of the church, put some money in the basket, and possibly hug the couple. I was halfway into the walk before I realized what was going on. Then I started dancing. And then I realized, oh my God, I have no money in my hands. Oh my goodness, people are looking. Oh, my goodness, we’re the first people. Oh, my goodness ….!!!! I was ready to demand a dance-over! Then I remembered it wasn’t my wedding.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n The happy bride and groom, Motun and Daniel. Unfortunately, we don’t have a better picture of them \ud83d\ude41 [Blame it on Igwe]. He has an iPhone. I have a Blackberry. I didn’t bother insulting myself by bringing out my Blackberry.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n However, going for Thanksgiving unprepared was the good part, considering what I had coming. After the wedding ceremony was over and everyone was making their way downstairs for the reception, Igwe and I were one of the last people to leave. But while we were leaving – and I still don’t know how this happened – my left foot twisted. While I was trying desperately to hold on to Igwe, my right foot couldn’t take it anymore, so that was how I came crashing on the ground.<\/p>\n Bad news:<\/strong> People saw me.<\/p>\n Not so-bad news:<\/strong> Not everyone saw me.<\/p>\n As a woman, when it concerns heels, one of my biggest fears is falling off the heels — in front of people — on my butt — on the day I have to host a friggin event. Alas, I now know what that feels like. Oh, ye, five-three-quarter heels, how thou hast reduceth my bride price!<\/p>\n When I eventually started hosting the event, I had to give the bridesmaids a heartfelt shout out for wearing heels all day and not falling off. Though they were all smart enough to not wear five-three-quarter heels.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Irony is that I wore these shoes because of how comfortable they are. In spite of the fall, they really are comfortable. Just that they’re apparently not made for walking.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n At the reception, I was very cautious not to fall. Thank God I didn’t. Everything went great. Music was great. Decor was beautiful. Coordination was great. Most of all, the couple looked undeniably happy. By the way, shout out to FTK Konnect<\/strong><\/a>, event planner extraordinaire for planning a beautiful wedding. It was an invitation-only and adult-only reception (great concept!) and everyone needed a place card to know their table. I forgot to take a picture of it, but Igwe’s place card read, Igwe<\/em>.<\/p>\n It wasn’t until I came home that I realized how hungry and exhausted I was. My energy was depleted. All day, I had only eaten a slice of bread and a piece of meat from Igwe’s plate at the reception. By the time I was done taking a shower and eating, I felt like I had been drugged with an industrial sleeping pill (have no idea if such a pill exists). I went out like a light.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/verastic.com\/site\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/06\/Me-outside.jpg\" "\\"Me")
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