Yeppers. That's a snapshot of a little something I like to call friendship. Drink it in. I've got my hands up another woman's skirt, and it's all business. I'm searching for superfluous ruching and smoothing out the boning while squatting in three-inch Stuart Weitzman heels. Later I'll Olivia Pope another dress emergency -- makeup on the bodice! -- with careful jiggering. This is love, y'all. And it's rare.
Despite loving everything weddings stand for, I've only stood up in one. I was the maid of honor in my best friend's wedding last month and expected the entire experience to be a nightmare. There is absolutely no pop cultural frame of reference for a positive wedding party experience. Instead of the Cinderella fantasy, recently the whole thing has taken on a Disney-fied evil domination feel. I went in thinking I'd be more like the Iago to her Jafar than the Genie to her Aladdin.