Perfect

None of my friends thought this relationship would last. After about four months three of them even held a kind of intervention or something. They insisted on being invited to my place. 6:00 on a Tuesday evening. Rachel, Pammie, and Mei.

“Look” said Rachel “it’s not like we think Richard is a bad guy. He’s kind.”

“And smart” Pammie adds.

“And ambitious” from Mei.

“And he’s got a really cute ass.” From Pammie again. The other two chorus “Damn right.” and “Wow.”

“But he’s not right for you” Rachel insisted.

“Why not?” I riposted brilliantly.

“Well, Mish, you know we all love you, but you can be a bit …. Rigid.”

“Uptight” Pam adds.

“Anal!” Mei puts in with a bright smile.

“I am not anal!”

“No? Let’s look in your closet.” We trooped into my bedroom and opened the closet. Since it was a Tuesday, there were three hangers on the left, each 15 cm apart, with my outfits through Friday. Each with appropriate underwear. Then a gap of 30 cm and all my other clothes on hangars spaced 10 cm apart to save space. Sorted by type of outfit: Dresses, skirts, blouses.

“So I like to keep my clothes orderly! So what?”

“Bathroom! Your toothpaste will be exactly halfway up the side of the sink, and precisely 5 cm from each edge. I’d bet on that!” Rachel said.

“And all her makeup and stuff will be precisely placed on that cart thing she has over her toilet.” Mei put in.

“That’s just sensible! That way, I can always reach for exactly what I want in the exact same spot.”

We don’t all fit in my bathroom but Pam and Mei peered from the doorway. “See!” Rachel said. triumphantly.

We went back in the main room. “That doesn’t mean I’m anal!”

“No, every 27-year-old has a kitchen you could do surgery in. I bet your kitchen is cleaner than your mother’s!”

“Well, OK, but so what?”

“Richard is just the same way.” Mei says. She actually introduced us.

“Shows good sense.” I say.

“Well, but don’t you fight all the time?” Pam adds.

“We do, but the fights are never that bad and the makeups are wonderful. Best sex of my life!”

“Really?” Mei asks.

“Mind blowing. But if you didn’t think we would be good together, why did you introduce us?”

“I didn’t!”

“You did! At that party!”

“OK, saying ‘Mish, this is Richard, Richard, this is Mish’ is technically introducing you, but I didn’t think you would date each other!”

Anyway, they were all wrong. We just got married. Of course, the wedding planning was a bit tense, but we divided it up and each of us checked he other. We’ve planned everything as you might imagine. Where the wedding will be, the reception, the exact order in which dishes will be served, who will give toasts.

Of course I’ve picked the perfect dress: I took a photo of my skin, and matched the exact right hue to complement it. I went it to get it fitted two months ago, and I had it fitted for my ideal weight of 125 pounds, even though I was 135 at the time. Ten pounds in two months, and I was going to be as slender as I’ve ever been and gorgeous.

And bridesmaid dresses. Each of my three friends is a different height, shape, and complexion. Mei is about 5’0’, can’t weigh more than 100 pounds, and is Chinese; Rachel is about 5’5”, won’t tell anyone what she weighs but could stand to lose 10 or 20 pounds (like me), and is olive skinned; Pam is nearly 6’0”, muscular, and pale. Each needs a different dress. But I finally figure it out: A different style and color for each woman, but identical white lace trimming and decorations.

And Richard has told all of his groomsmen to wear navy suits. Not double breasted. With red ties, not too long. And he’s demanded that each of them get a haircut exactly one week before the wedding. And each of us picked two people to hold the poles of the chuppah. I picked my two little brothers, who are 18 and 20, and he picked two cousins, both of them 20. And we instructed them how to hold the poles so the canopy is exactly horizontal. But really, people are going to be looking mostly at me. Who looks at the groom?

Everything was going to be perfect.

And it was. I wound up having to lose 10 pounds in just the last three weeks, which meant starving myself and going to the gym every day but it was all worth it. I look amazing. This morning, I looked amazing naked, I could even see my abs! Each layer made me look even better: Bra, panties, makeup, and then the dress. It fit! My mom said “Wow!” I turned every which way, admiring myself. There’s even a little room to move.

Even the weather cooperated, it was a beautiful early-fall day No one was late. The flowers were prefect and Dad is so proud as he marches me up the aisle to Here Comes the Bride. Everyone is looking at me and I hear gasps and murmurs of “wow, she looks great” and “that dress is perfect.”

I stood under the chuppah, looking at Richard adoringly and he is looking qt me the same way. Perfect. I see love but also lust in his eyes, he clearly appreciates how I look.

Richard has said “I do” to the vows we wrote together, professing our eternal devotion. The rabbi turns to me. “Do you, Michelle“ when something hits me on the head and I heard a thump behind me. Richard’s mouth opened in an O and he turned to look at my brother Michael. I turned around and my younger brother is flat on his belly on the ground. No one even has to ask if there is a doctor. My dad is a cardiologist, Richard’s mom is an internist, and Mei’s dad is a rheumatologist. There was almost a competition to reach Michael. No one even asked if I was OK, maybe they didn’t even see the pole hit my head. I’m sure my hair ws a mess, but there was no mirror to look at. Is my veil askew?

Michael turned out to be fine. A small percentage of men (but almost no women) will faint if they stand rigidly. After a couple minutes, he stands up, holds the pole again, and the rabbi finished the wedding. I ran inside and went to the bathroom to check my hair. It looked fine. And the rest of the day was wonderful. I’m married!

But the chuppah holder sure stole the show.