It should probably have been called a “Woman Party” if we were going to get really politically correct about it, but it’s my party and I’ll call it what I want to. Either one is better than “Bachelorette Party” (US–bachelorette is a term that that just basically bugs me, even though I get that it’s an improvement on either of the archaisms old maid or spinster ) or “Hen Night” (UK). Besides, we weren’t doing any of the numerous things that could be associated with those terms. It was just me and a bunch of my local-est Girl Friends, at the apartment of one of them, noshing and imbibing a little (seriously–just a little) and “sharing.” No going out and acting ridiculous. No strippers (none of those for anybody in this wedding, thank you very much). Just a really nice time with some really great women.
Starbecca hosted and she and Sister-in-Lu co-organised by email, and somehow they managed to pull together the aforementioned gift-certificate-of-pampering and a really classy evening. I wasn’t having bridesmaids because if I were going to bring together all the Girl Friends I know from all over the world who have had a significant impact in my life, there would’ve been so much estrogen in the church, probably, that the men would’ve had to fear for . . . well, something. I’ll let you make it up. Anyway. It would be overwhelming and there probably wouldn’t be room for all of them at the front of the church. I wouldn’t know how to narrow them down. But for this Girl Party, I selected just a few of them, who were local and also available, and I feel like they represented the rest very well.
Besides the stellar people, there was also wine, brie, strawberries, artichoke dip and pretty teacups. So . . . I was happy. Sister-in-Lu was in charge of the “program” which, in part, involved all the women coming up with cheeky questions (although not nearly as cheeky as they could have been) and my answering them. The questions ranged from “Have you farted in front of each other yet?” to “How did you know he was the one?” so I’d say we covered everything. Also, it gave me the opportunity to tell stories, which, while I prefer writing them because I only like being the centre of attention when I can watch it from a distance, was still pretty great since, you know if you’re here, I have lots of stories.
After that, Sister-in-Lu gave each of the women a typed prayer (mostly from the Book of Common Prayer, I believe) on a piece of paper, along with a pen, and encouraged them to write their own prayers for me, for my Paul, for our future. They got to pray them aloud, too, if they wanted. The prayers touched on everything from wedding day details to in-laws to sex, so I’d say we covered everything. Again.
Sister-in-Lu and I didn’t get home (the last night I was to call that place “home”) too late, but we were tired and I went to bed as soon as I could after hearing a brief and hilarious recounting from TheBro of how he and my Paul and The Brothers-in-Law had spent their evening. Evidently nobody else slept well the night before my wedding but I, drifting on the prayers of my sisters, perhaps, slept like a baby.