Category: Wedding March

When I reached outside of the ceremony room, there was a small group of people there but I just wasn’t seeing them at all. It’s very hard to explain it, it was like I was in a bubble and my heart was pounding so hard. Finally, my inebriated sister and brother-in-law ambled over and we stood outside the room, waiting for the cue to enter.

“Okay, go in,” said Peter, our saviour emcee and then he disappeared into the room. I don’t know why but somehow, that remark didn’t register in our brains and we stood there stupidly, waiting for the sign that had already came. According to poor Mr Thick, he stood at the end of the aisle as the piano refrain from Five for Fighting’s 100 Years played for four times, wondering where the hell his wife was.

“Eh, go in!” It was Peter, who had appeared again. I took a huge breath, linked arms with the Sista and A, and walked in.

The crowd was huge and my breath almost stopped. Okay, given that I was 30 minutes late, it wasn’t that unbelievable, but still, that moment was mine to savour.

Except to my right, my sister was almost dashing forward to my very handsome husband-to-be, and to my left, my brother-in-law suddenly let rip a loud and hysterical guffaw and I thought, What the hell is going on? It certainly wasn’t your typical stately and elegant walk down the aisle as the Sista half-dragged me while I looked on to the still-guffawing A in bewilderment.

At least, we got to the my husband-to-be. He looked mightily relieved and to be honest, so was I. We held hands and moved behind the table to take our seats. One thing that I am grateful for was that my uncle, as our justice of peace, had shifted the seats around, such that the two of us were facing the room while his back faced the audience. While most seating arrangements saw the audience staring at the backs of the couple, this new arrangement allowed everyone to look at us clearly as the ceremony was taking place.

As Mr Thick said his “I will” and “I do”, my eyes misted over and I almost cried. Surprisingly, I managed to curb the waterworks by taking a deep breath and telling myself that I cannot cry now. My mascara would run and I would terrible! That worked, almost instantly. Ah, vanity.

We reached the point where we had to exchange our rings and he said his vows without a hitch. As I slipped his ring over his finger, I started saying my vows. Except, it wasn’t complete. It sounded like this,
…To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish ’till death do us part…

Gah! I continued saying my vows as calmly as possible, hoping against hope that nobody noticed. Not a chance. As we sat there as our parents signed the certificate. Mr Thick whispered, “Did you miss out the for richer part?” I giggled and nodded, and we sat there shaking with mirth.

But the hilarity wasn’t over. We signed the certificate and it was time for the husband to unveil me and give me the first kiss of our married lives. But we were thwarted by…my mother! Even before I had put down the pen, my mother was ushering us and going, “Take family picture now! Quick, family picture! And remember to give the red packet to your uncle!” We dutifully took that picture, with me still wearing that veil, and then wondered how we were going to get to that kiss afterall.

His eldest brother, Steven, saved us from the blushes. “Kiss the bride!” he shouted and we duly obliged. Mr Thick flipped up my veil very coolly this time, having had his practice this morning, and we stared at each other for a second.

“We didn’t practise our kiss!” I murmured. No matter. We leaned in for a sweet, demure kiss and then…ah hah! The real deal! It wasn’t practised and it was damn satisfying. Heh.

We walked down the aisle as confetti was tossed at us and then we reached the end. Now what?

Part I: The morning
Part II: Coffee, tea or me?
Part III: Sunny skies
Part IV: The “passing” rain

All photos by Eadwine Lay of Plush Photography.
More photos here and here.

!(imgcenter)http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3219/2941048549_d58bbaa046.jpg!:http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimmyliew/2941048549/
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Back in the suite, my make up artist Lawrence was busy trying to transform me into a princess. It was a tough job because the lack of sleep had given me ridiculously dark eye rings and I wanted to have smoky eyes. Panda alert! But he did a fantastic job and I cannot recommend him enough.

When Mr Thick came back to the suite, the prognosis wasn’t good. Dark clouds were billowing in the horizon but we crossed our fingers and hoped that the wind would blow them away. Unfortunately, it started drizzling lightly, and he received several frantic calls from the banquet manager, who wanted to know if we wanted to move indoors.

Frankly, that had to be one of the toughest moments in my life. I had to sit there quietly as my face was being painted but my mind was whirling with pessimism and prayer. Our perfect, beautiful wedding that we had been planning for the past year was about to be washed down the drain, literally. Poor Mr Thick had to quickly – he didn’t even style his hair! – move downstairs to survey the situation. Throughout the night, he kept all the stressful decision-making to himself and protected me from the excruciating details. I never thought it was possible but I think I, to paraphrase Ingrid Michaelson’s song, love him more than I promised that night.

In the meantime, my anxiety further heightened when my god-sister began complaining about the hotel staff’s poor service and when my uncle, who was also my JP, got lost with my mother in his car. I received several high-strung calls from the matriarch, which stressed me out. Forget about being polite, I wanted to be by myself, and got my cousin to shoo everyone else out.

Best decision, really, because once I had the space to think, I decided that there was no point in getting depressed. Sure, I was extremely disappointed that our dream could not be realised but there wasn’t anything that we could do and if this was what the big guy up there intended to happen, then so be it. I focused my attention (not enough, as we found out later) on writing our vows and keeping calm.

But. We were running late! 15 minutes before the start of the ceremony, Lawrence was still fussing about with my hair. At 6.30pm, the husband-to-be rang me to ask if I was ready. Nay! The hair was still being curled! At 6.40pm, Trev came into the room to ask if I was ready. Nay! The flower was still being pinned into the curled hair! And it was still bloody raining!

Finally, Lawrence was done and I hurriedly got dressed. We darted to the door and, of all people, Trev and Al – two non-straight men – helped me into my heels. It was a hilarious moment when I dropped my skirts, thinking they were done hooking up the straps of my shoes.

“Not yet, not yet!” screeched Al, whose bald head was engulfed by the skirts. Oops. I giggled and quickly lifted them up again and in a wink of an eye, he was done. By then, it was almost seven and I was a whopping 30 minutes late. Urghs. I walked as quickly as I could in my heels and made a dash for the lift.

Screw the rain, it was time to get married!

Part I: The morning
Part II: Coffee, tea or me?
Part III: Sunny skies

All photos by Eadwine Lay of Plush Photography.
More photos here and here.

!(imgcentre)http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3142/2864893569_311693b433.jpg(Ribbons flying)!:http://www.flickr.com/photos/33587399@N00/2864893569/

After tucking into a nice catered lunch, we went on our merry way to the hotel. The sun was blazing hot and so the top of the car stayed up. It was a perfect moment – we were young and in love, the weather was bright and sunny.

The plan was to catch a bit of shut-eye in the afternoon because I was absolutely knackered. But I didn’t manage to get any sleep because our room was not ready when we arrived at the hotel. And when we finally did get the room, our friends were already decorating the venue and it did feel a bit diva-ish to nap while they worked.

So it was off with the thick make-up and cheongsam, and on with the slippers, tee and shorts. I packed myself downstairs to see what I can help with, while the husband was already marshalling people around.

Standing there while everyone pottered around, I was left speechless. Ribbons were being tied everywhere, candles placed in strategic places, strings of crystal being hung on The Tree, lanterns strung up on strings. It was wildly beyond my imagination. All I had wanted was a line of paper lanterns around the circumference of the dinner area and a huge ribbon on The Tree. Not this elaborate set-up. It was hard not to be impressed and immensely moved, because it was as if someone had stepped up to me, gently taken my dream wedding off of my hapless hands and transformed it into something so much more amazing and breathtaking.

I’m now writing this with a smile on my face now because looking back, I was so gullible and distracted. I had brought down my high heels to the ceremony grounds to see if I could walk properly without tripping during the solemnization. At that point in time, Sandy, Peter and the husband were discussing the details with the banquet manager and I joined them for a bit. I didn’t notice the worried looks exchanged (the husband assured me that there were plenty) and before I knew it, he was pulling me up from my seat and guiding me to the stairs, telling me that I needed to practise walking in my heels. He even stayed with me throughout the entire time I was practising, which I had thought was weird at that time but chalked it up to the mood of the wedding. And when five o’clock came, he promptly booted me upstairs to get my make-up done. Something fishy going on? We’ll find out.

The one thing that I really regret is not having seen the venue in all its glory. When I went back to the room, the guys were stringing up the lanterns and some of the linen had not been set up yet. What’s imprinted on my mind is thus the “almost-there” version. I wish we had taken more photos but I guess I can only make do with my own imagination.

Part I: The morning
Part II: Coffee, tea or me?

!(imgcenter)http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3282/2864691559_2b9e26373f.jpg!:http://www.flickr.com/photos/33587399@N00/2864691559/

After all the pot-banging and sashaying, it was time to move out of the house and move on to his place for part one of the tea ceremony.

“It’s good business,” advised Ead when I complained a little. “All you do is serve tea and get money for it. When I get married, the more relatives we have, the better! We can serve tea the whole day!”

While the first part of the morning had been unruly and mad, the next part of the journey was a tad saner. The weather was brilliant (stupid, buggering weather, curses, curses!) and the sky was a vivid shade of blue. The dude decided to put the top of the Daihatsu Copen down and we braced ourselves for a breezy and bumpy (the suspension was the pits) ride. As the convoy of cars pulled out of the sleepy town I call home, I felt a little frisson of excitement and exhilaration. It just felt nice to see a whole row of cars following in our wake. Don’t ask me why, I can’t explain it either. Oh, and as I got into the car, I could almost hear Anthony muttering, in my head, “It’s like pushing a cream puff through a keyhole.”

At the traffic light, another wedding car pulled up next to us and the occupants – the couple and their slaves – waved to us. As we waved up from our little car to their giant Volvo, all I could think of was, “Hah! We are much cooler than you!”

After the hilarious episode of door opening earlier, the one at his house was smoother in comparison. Two cute kiddos bearing oranges came down to welcome us and I thought that things were actually going quite well. Until we reached his floor and I saw the pot of fire waiting for me.

A pot of fire! Isn’t it usually reserved for prisoners who are released from jail (according to MyDearCorpse shows anyway)? How the heck am I supposed to cross over the threshold in my meringue dress? Nobody told me anything about a pot of fire! Okay, the dude might have but I had thought he was joking.

“I carry you,” volunteered the dude helpfully. I think I almost screeched in disbelief. “Can one,” he assured me, stepping forward to lift me up. He took another step towards the pot, and another and…

“My dress!” I screamed, desperately trying to gather as much tulle into my arms as I could so that I would still have a gown for the dinner. I could feel him heave under the sheer effort – and I don’t even weigh that much! – and then we were in. As he put me down, five layers of tulle and all, I said a prayer of thanks heavenward.

The tea ceremony was pretty routine and the best part of it, to me, was when we were all crowded in his spare bedroom eating lunch. The whole group of us, eating curry chicken and gasping over the roast pork. It just felt so easy and relaxed and as usual, everyone was cracking profoundly dumb jokes and acting stupid. It’s so us. Someone dripped curry on my skirt and I thought I would freak out but I didn’t. I just sat there, happily drinking my Ribena. Skunk shed a tear for his brethren, the roast pig, but was still able to chomp down the meat with much gusto.

The tea ceremony at my place was very relaxed and non-eventful (no fire). The matriarch gave a little speech as we were kneeling in front of her and choked up at one point. Simultaneously, my eyes welled up but I blinked away my tears and warned her not to cry or we will both be ugly boohoo babies (I might have wagged my finger at the mum and said fiercely, “don’t you dare cry!”. Yes, I am mean like that to mumsy). My cousins, on the other hand, were dying to be served tea and I got two gorgeous pendents from them. It’s rather amusing because just three days prior, they had been discussing their purchases blatantly in front of me.

So. Weather perfect. Tea ceremony done. We’ve only got the dinner left and it should go well, right?

Hardy har har.

Part i: The morning

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It’s been a week and more since we became Mister and Missus, and everything’s been so different yet so same.

We still live apart. We still work at the same [insert adjective] companies. We don’t see each other everyday. We chat on the phone every night.

But we each have a shiny new band on our ring fingers and a lifetime of memories of the wedding. Despite all the hiccups, it was all kind of funny, on hindsight.

The day had started out peacefully enough. I tumbled out of bed at 6.15am, had a quarrel with a misbehaving water heater before emerging for breakfast. My dearest matriarch had whipped up an army of sandwiches and a cuppa tea. Yums. But before I had time to even take a bite, Lawrence, the make-up artist arrived!

The morning passed by in a whirl. Shortly after, Ead arrived and started shooting. Then the girls and one boy arrived and went on to prepare for the Big Showdown. Some of the relatives poured in and said hi. All the while, I was sitting in the chair, not knowing how I looked, and completely trusting Lawrence. At eight, the boys plus one girl texted to say that they were on the way to my place. At 8.20am, the sound of horns tooting noisily signalled their arrival. So far, so good.

Except that my hair wasn’t done yet, my uncle and aunt had not arrived with the nephew to open the dude’s car door, I can’t be veiled because my uncle and aunt had not arrived! We panicked a little, waited a bit, Ead went down to shoot the boys plus one girl, I bit my perfectly manicured nails in despair and Lawrence promptly finished up with the knot in my hair.

“Something is wrong,” I said to Trev. Hmm. I thought for a bit before realising, oh my, I had forgotten to wear my earrings and the pearl necklaces! Giving a yell of disbelief, I commanded Trev to fetch them from my dressing table and stabbed the earrings through my protesting lobes, before he was called down to be the “door opener” instead. My mum hustled up another set of uncle and aunt to do the deed and I was finally, properly veiled and waiting for my husband.

Except, it was kind of boring just sitting there while the fun went on outside. I could hear the banging of pots and pans and then the strains of a badly mangled “Joy to the World” reached my ears. Then I heard peals of laughter and my cousin dashed in to tell me that the fashion show was happening and it was all very mad. Before I knew it, I heard a familiar voice shouting from behind the closed door, “Dearie! I’m here!”

“Come in!”
“What?”
“COME IN!”

The door opened and he burst in, looking mightily cute. We stared at each other for a bit, grinning widely, and then,

“I think you are supposed to lift up my veil and kiss me.”
“Okay.”

As you can see, we are obviously not very well-versed in this wedding business. Oh well, no time for that, we did the deed and were on our way to his place for the tea ceremony in his brother’s stylish little Daihatsu Copen…

More photos from Popartgirl here.