i escaped to starbucks, hoping to shake off the lethargy and get down to the shampoo translation, which should really take only an hour or so if i put my mind to it. yet here i am… blogging.

i like to sit in a cafe with my work and a cappucino when the crowd is quiet and the music restful, when the murmur of like-minded people and the hum of the espresso machine form a non-intrusive backdrop to the tap-tap-tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. but the crowd is somewhat rowdy today, full of euphoric teens on their year-end break. i find myself unable to make anything of the japanese characters on the shampoo bottle, and so… i blog.

truth be told, i am rather tired of the bridesmaid do. outwardly, i am all bubbly enthusiasm because too much girlish friendship is at stake – all the golden rules say it is nothing less than an honour of the highest kind to be asked to walk with your friend down that once-a-lifetime aisle. but i rebel inside. i really do not think i could face any more gown fittings nor talk of shoes, jewellery, manicure, and photo shoots. i also cannot quite believe that our gowns are orange because the bride wants us to match her ballroom decor. call me curtain and be done with it.

fragile girlish ties aside, i think i will not have any bridesmaids when (if?) i get married. all my guests will wear clothes they like and feel good in (ballroom decor be hanged!). they will not need to wake up before the crack of dawn to fuss over hair and face, nor will they have to worry about coming up with games to taunt my man with. they will come for the wedding, drink and be merry, and we will all have the time of our lives. and nobody will feel the need to lose weight for my wedding, or feel all self-sacrificial just because ‘they love me’.

that’s if i get married, of course. out of boredom, i did this silly facebook quiz that’s supposed to tell me when i will get married. according to the quiz, a whole bunch of my friends, including myself, will get married in exactly 4 years and 1 months’ time. well. i suppose the wedding industry will be wanting that bit of information.

that is something i would never say. not right now anyway. i just typed that into the subject box because a friend will march into the church on her wedding day to this tune, and its chirpily, cheesily positive title got stuck in my head.

how did she get someone as cynical as myself to be one of the bridesmaids? my mind keeps replaying scenes from random movies, where every wedding reception sees a sour-ish old maid in a bright fuschia dress (mine will be orange. i suppose that is some comfort?) sitting sourly around, spouting angry, bitter wisecracks about love and marriage. it is so easy to superimpose my face onto one of those.

don’t get me wrong. i am honoured beyond words that she actually asked me. but i simply cannot bounce around and be excited and teary all at the same time. (ok, maybe i can bounce around…) i cannot fuss around her and gush at how lovely she is. (i know she will be, but that is not the point here.) i cannot squeal at the best men. four years ago, maybe. or… well, eight years ago. but the person i am today feels rather like a matron in high school garb, or like patrick dempsey in made of honour. and i really don’t want to be jealous of her (but am sorely afraid because the possibility looms large).

still, 1.33am is no time to be dwelling on bridesmaid fears, so i will be hauling my extremely reluctant brain to work. money never fails.