Flower and flour

This coming Saturday, or even tomorrow because now people are getting married even on a typical Wednesday, there’ll be many brides dressed in a rabbit’s eye pink or crocodile toes green. The colours have evolved! I don’t know what happened to normal blues and greens. Now it’s baby poop yellow or freshly-rained-on-soil brown.

There’s little I regret about my wedding. But one thing I should have done is have (more?) make-up. I barely had lip balm on, and by the end of the day, my lips were so dry they could have sufficiently scrubbed your high school kitchen boilers. I was smacking and licking them, which made them itchy and inflamed. By the end of the day, I had a chapped line on my lip that cracked every time I smiled, which was all the time.

It’s torturous how guests expect brides to smile on their wedding day. Because if you don’t, the picture will come out looking like they dragged you kicking and screaming from your mother’s breasts to go and get married. And these days, when people jump to conclusions faster than a frog that met a puff udder, you don’t want people thinking you were an unhappy bride.

I haven’t attended many weddings in the recent past. The last wedding I attended was in 2019. Aren’t people getting married anymore? Ama The Kenya School of Character Development is churning out graduates in truckloads?

I walked down to ‘here comes the bride’ and read the old ‘with this ring I thee wed’ vows. I felt like the modern way of composing your vows and making them feel more relatable and personal has diluted the meaning of the vows. I’m wrong as I am in many things.

On Saturday — or Wednesday — this bride and groom will read the vows from a little printed note held up by the maid-of-honour, hereby called MOH. She (the MOH) will be wearing her first off-shoulder dress in yesterday’s-rain-clouds-grey. It’ll be uncomfortable. She will have imprisoned her boobs with boob tape to keep them in place because no one wants to see the ghastly bra straps on an off-shoulder dress.

The couple will read the vows and probably cry a little as is societally appropriate, and the crowd will ululate and clap.

But if the married couples in the crowd were to tell them, they’d say to the bride that she’ll spend the rest of her life repeating her sentences because he’s never really listening.

They’d tell her that ‘I do’ is the most straightforward question she’ll ever answer. From here on, her life will be full of, “Ati umesema?

“leo tunapika nini?”

”Where are my grey socks?”

“Have you seen my white shirt?” Meanwhile, all the white shirts are staring at him from the closet he’s standing in front of.

They’d tell the groom suffocating in his tuxedo that his every decision would be questioned. Even the skills he has possessed and prided in until today – like parking a car or chewing – will be challenged, assessed, declared unfit and redirected. They’d tell him that he doesn’t even know his favourite colour yet. He’ll soon figure out how good he looks in dry-beetroot-maroon.

The newlyweds will soon discover that it’s possible to create a world war just by breathing too loudly. And that research has now found that snoring is optional and criminal, and you could get killed for snoring in your sleep.

The new wife will discover that one of her duties is to roll the new husband over in his sleep so that he stops sleeping on his back. Because when he sleeps on his back, it’s Jurassic park all over again. It sounds like T-rex is fighting with an unknown fierce enemy.

When the guests are gone, the couple will finally get to remove the tuxedo and the shoes pinching their small toe and giving her varicose veins. That’s when they’ll understand that marriage is a DIY project. Each of them will soon discern that they are inherently selfish. And that there’s a lot of dying to themselves over and over and over again.

And it’ll soon dawn that a wedding and a marriage are as different as flour and flower.

One thought on “Flower and flour

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