Attended my uncle's (i.e. mum's cousin) wedding yesterday. There was the usual afternoon lunch reception cum tea ceremony, and the evening's banquet at Four Seasons. Not bad, the bride was pretty (and smart - she's an anaesthetist, my uncle's a surgeon), the ballroom was posh, and the food, aliight. Yet somehow, the wedding freaked me out, as like all other weddings do.

I mean, im certainly fine with the 8/10 course dinner at the 5/6 star hotels (like who'll complain about having good food to eat), and i definitely look forward to the typical "life-story" video presentation of the couple they always screen before/during the dinner (very cliche but i guess it's really the occupational interest hazard). The participation in weddings was seldom a cause for concern for me. However, i honestly have to admit that i dread the day when i imagine im the one playing host. It's been a childhood fear. Unlike every other girl who, since the day they were born, yearned for and hallucinated eagerly of their own big day, complete with the glamourous gown and full makeover, walking down the blardy long aisle in those crawling toesteps she takes, submerged in the thunderous applause and cat-calls/wolf-whistles of the thousand-strong crowd much to her delight ; i simply cringe at the thought of it.

Call me cynical, weird, abnormal, or even stupid, but seriously - i hate it. I fully understand that its a celebration of love between two people where they finally come together as one blah blah blah, but as they said it, it is afterall between the TWO of them. Is it really more joyous to have a thousand pairs of eyes (half of whom you dont even recognise/know their names) staring at you/your gown/your hair/your makeup/your figure/your husband-to-be than to be united eternally with the one you love? Or perhaps, it is a source of comfort, a D-grade alternative to garner all the attention enough to last you your entire unglam life, knowing that you'll never make it as a Hollywood A-list celebrity who'd have a chance to walk down the red carpet on Oscar's night? How do you know your guests, or more specifically, your very own relatives, are not mentally undressing you or silently hoping to see you trip and fall flat onto the red carpet, or worse, face down into the second of the three-tier cake you're about to cut? Or maybe, they're secretly cursing you for that hellava thank-you speech you do in the middle of a course that's starving them especially after starting the evening an hour late from the time stated on the invitation? So much so for arriving punctually/early for fear of having the cold dish and sharksfin swallowed by another pig at your table.

Whatever the case, having my own wedding celebration/banquet only gives me nightmares. Please do NOT ask me how many tables i want for the dinner, what flowers i want to use for the decor, or whether i should pick a hotel with a larger ballroom since it can accomodate more people; like the daughter of my grandmother's cousin's nephew's son-in-law who lives in Penang, or even ex-neighbour down the street who gave me the leftover chai-tow-kuey she made when she realised it was my 1st birthday. They always say one's wedding night is the evening they'll never forget in all their life. And i certainly agree. Who wouldn't when they have had one such wedding from hell?