This time the bride sits on her own throne, a regal carved wooden chair with blue velvet cushions, in the back room of the church she attended for most of her life. The room is filled with couches, and the couches are filled with the bride's aunts, cousins, and friends whom she seldom sees these days. Her wonderful beautiful (only semi-fiendish) friend's adorable toddler daughters are busy charming all the grown-up ladies. Her grandmother sits on one of the couches, making sure that the groom's mother has someone to talk to. On the other side of a room divider decked out in pink rose wrapping paper, a table is filled with finger foods and picnic fare, including a fancy tower of Hostess cupcakes. To her left, a very sweet and also very loud childhood friend who won't leave the bride's side. To her right, the maid of honor, sister of the bride, this time in charge of being the scribe. The gifts appear from the table next to the bride's throne, and disappear from beside her feet as soon as they are opened.
The gift bag currently in the bride's hands, from her sister and cousin, looks innocent enough. She scans the card: "Weddings are fun, but don't forget what they're really about..." Her mom takes a picture of her wide eyes reading the inside: "Expensive gifts and sex." Uh oh.
The next thing to come out of the bag is a tiny wrapped box with a little note attached: "Something blue to match your kitchen!" The roomful of women giggles. "Let us see!" they cackle. "Hold it up! You have to show us!" The bride sighs, blushes, holds up the lacy light blue thong for all to see.
"Seriously, though," her sister confides at the shower's end, "I don't ever want to know if you use it in your kitchen."