Before we could really get the dancing party started, we had a few more traditions to uphold. The bouquet toss, for one!
I had DIY’ed a little toss bouquet out of the silk flowers I had bought for centerpiece mock-ups using hot glue and spare ribbon the night before. Brides, do not let yourself handle hot glue guns the night before your wedding. It just won’t lead to good things. I, for instance, was reckless in my stressed state of mind and ended up burning the tip of my finger on scalding glue. The burn promptly blistered before my eyes and there was nothing anyone could do. Fortunately, the blister was well protected by my thick, shellacked nail, so it didn’t bother me throughout the wedding. But the experience made me even more eager to chuck that offending bouquet into a crowd of rabid women. That’ll teach it.
All right, all right, so silk flowers can’t be taught lessons and the crowd of women was far from being rabid, but the toss was still fun!
All single ladies, even the engaged, assembled behind me.
I was secretly aiming for the woman in green, as you may notice. I was privy to her boyfriend’s tentative plans and thought it’d be some good ol’ foreshadowing.
She ALMOST got it! But she’s an absolute sweetheart, so she let my little cousin claim the prize. It hardly affected anything, though, as the lady in green is now in the midst of planning her wedding!
We nearly didn’t have a garter toss, but friends convinced me and I managed to convince Mr. Bunting, and on the way home from an errand two days before the wedding, Mother Bunting and I picked up a $2 garter from a little bridal shop. Two-dollar garters are not the most comfortable of garters (I speak like I am an experienced garter analyst), so that baby didn’t go on until it was ready to be removed.
And that task, like I imagine most garter-retrieval scenes go, was quite entertaining. DJ Randee told Mr. Bunting he could have at it, but he had to woo me with his dance. So he sauntered over to some silly song while I giggled like a schoolgirl…
…and then he got shy. I can’t blame him. What’s more awkward than sticking your head under your new wife’s dress to retrieve a flimsy undergarment from around her thigh while ALL of your friends and family and new in-laws look onward with glee?
But once the garter had successfully been retrieved, the single men got serious. My cousins practiced their blocking positions and tested their arms’ lengths.
Mr. Bunting took aim.
And FIRED ZE MISSILES.
Despite their best warm-up efforts, no one actually wanted to dive for it. (They can’t appear desperate, these suave gentlemen!) That, or they knew they didn’t stand a chance against Best Man Bunting.
Who caught it. In his hat. Like a boss.
Yeah, you earned a victory dance.
Did that really just happen?
Yes, yes it did. We congratulated Best Man Bunting with a good ol’ group hug.
Next up, everyone puts on their dancing shoes! Which, for most women at weddings, really involved taking them off.
*Marked photos are copyright Bryan and Mae Photography. Unmarked photos are personal or guest photos.
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