It turns out a fat, loud, prone to hot flashes, junior college dropout, post-menopausal, unemployed woman has a lot in common with the woman who will marry Prince Harry and become a member of the British royal family in a few days. Meghan Markle ain't got nobody to walk her down the aisle and neither did I.
In my first wedding, held in my backyard when I was ten-years-old, my best friend on the block (Marci) was the groom and I was the blushing bride. I wore a gown of my own creation. On top of my scooter skirt and tank top, I artfully draped a white sheet around my torso. It made a beautiful train; however, my mother yelled at me when she got home from work to discover grass stains, stickers, and cherry Kool-Aid all over the sheet.
My veil was an ivory, lacy, half slip I wore on my head over my dog ears. As I recall, it looked quite regal. I carried a bouquet of dandelions as I gracefully walked solo across the lawn to where my groom awaited me near the barbecue pit. As I walked, I imagined myself as Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. It took Julie, who portrayed Maria von Trapp, at least half the movie to slowly walk down the aisle to Captain von Trapp. I can assure you my stroll was no less dramatic. The neighborhood dogs in attendance were impressed by my poise.
After Marci and I said our vows, we exchanged mood rings before sharing a chaste kiss. There was no Katy Perry moment. I kissed a girl, but I didn't like it. Marci had chapped lips.
We made our exit on my bike which was decorated with toilet paper streamers. I pedaled, with her on the banana seat behind me, to the end of our street where her house was located. It wasn't easy to do wearing a sheet and a slip on my head with five dogs chasing us, but I pulled it off.
Our reception was held in the pink, plastic playhouse in her backyard. We enjoyed a repast of Hostess cupcakes and cherry Kool-Aid. The event ended with me tossing my bouquet over my shoulder. Mia, the bulldog, caught it and tried to eat it.
Sadly, my first marriage was unsuccessful just like Meghan's first marriage. Marci and I lost touch when I entered junior high and no longer wanted to be seen in the company of my spouse who was a year behind me and still in elementary school.
My second wedding provoked as much speculation and drama as Meghan's second wedding. The question of who would walk me down the aisle was as thorny as it currently is for her. It seems she has a somewhat unreliable father as did I.
My stepfather was no more reliable than my biological father. Daddy number two had a powerful propensity for pills and booze. That fact should've given me pause. It didn't. He escorted me down the aisle on very shaky legs. What was I thinking?
I could've walked down the aisle with my wonderful mother as Meghan might do with her mother. Hell, I could've walked down the aisle all alone just like I did during my first wedding. If it was good enough for Julie Andrews it was certainly good enough for me. And, it will be good enough for Meghan if that's what she chooses.
Hopefully, Prince Harry will use Chapstick; a bulldog won't eat her bouquet; and Meghan will figure out how to solve a problem like Maria . . . OOPS, I mean a problem like a dad who might, or might not, be there for his daughter.