(Warning: This entry will be long. And will include some foot shots. So if you hate feet, run, run for the hills.)
This story begins in my junior year as a Political Science major. I remember that moment clearly – me walking barefoot to my grandma’s room in the middle of the night, waking her up to tell her what I had decided. I was going to quit school. Yes, a couple of weeks before finals. No, I wasn’t insane. My reasons were valid. I’ve always been stubborn and my grandma knew nothing she or anyone else said could change my mind. It was a crazy decision, one not many would have made but I knew it was the right one for me. (And, over ten years later, I can honestly say I’ve never regretted it, not even for a single minute.)
At that point I had already been writing for the newspaper for a couple of years and I had started going to the office to help close the pages. Once I quit school, I threw myself into work, applying for a full-time job at a dot-com startup. Soon I was juggling two jobs and was quite happy doing it.
My plans had changed. I was no longer set on becoming a lawyer, I wanted to work for the newspaper full-time. Then came the blow, which really shouldn’t have been a surprise. I was told by my boss that the newspaper couldn’t hire me full-time unless I completed my degree. I had no choice, I knew what I had to do – I had to go back to school. I had to get that damn diploma.
Over a year after I left, I returned to my university to convince the dean to let me enroll again. He was nice, really nice, despite the fact that I just disappeared from school the previous year with no word. He tried to convince me to continue studying Political Science. It’s a shame I wanted to switch majors, he said, my grades were good. And my grades were good. Despite not taking all my final exams, I had passed all my subjects except for one – and that professor didn’t even fail me, he just marked my grade “incomplete.”
But I didn’t want to study Political Science, I was sick of it. I wanted to study Journalism and just be done with college.
Fast forward to June 2001, the first day of my second attempt at college. Everyone in my class was younger than me by a couple of years. That didn’t matter, I told myself, I’m not here to make friends. I’m just here for that damn diploma.
But I did make friends. The best kind. The crazy kind you can laugh your head off with, the wonderful kind you can cry with. Friends who understand you, accept you and love you – madness and all.
And I say this with no exaggeration – I survived my second attempt at getting that damn diploma because of them.
In August 2002, I posted this entry on my old blog:
My transformation into a college student would have been miserable if it weren’t for Ruthie, Kathy, Gabby, Patwee, Leidy and Shayn.
I would have missed out on a lot of things if I decided to stick to my original plan when I first went back to school – sit at the back alone and not talk to anyone. Like all of us screaming along to way excellent songs while packed inside Ruthie’s car. Or us laughing at Leidy’s fake British accent. Or us picking on Gabby. Or them coming over to my place to watch movies that either make us cry or gush. Or us skipping class to go to the mall. Or us making grand plans for the future.
And last Friday, one of those grand plans came true.
Kathy married her beloved Enad. Enad and Kathy, whose devotion even back in college made me go, “Now that’s the kind of love you want,” got married and I was a flower girl. A 31-year-old flower girl.
The whole flower girl thing started long before the wedding. At our reunion in 2009, I kept teasing Kathy, “Don’t forget, flower girl ako.”
And while most people thought I was kidding, Kathy knew me well enough to know that I was serious. I really wanted to be her flower girl.
And so while Ruth and Leidy and Patricia and Gabby got grown-up tasks as secondary sponsors, Shayn and I had the wonderful role of carrying flowers around and flinging petals in the air. Flinging petals in the air? Totally up my alley.
This is the wedding invitation which Kathy DIYed. She’s amazing.
And here is proof that I really was a flower girl.
Five days before the wedding, I tried on my flower girl dress for the first time. It was a silvery gray gown which was inspired by Charlotte’s bridesmaid dress in one of the early seasons of Sex and the City. I loved it.
Then came the big question: what polish would I wear?
I kept thinking and thinking. Silver. Light blue. Light blue with silver. No, gray. Then, on the way back from the fitting, it hit me – Rescue Beauty Lounge’s Catherine H.
Because Katherine was getting married and blue was part of the motif.
I had my polish but I didn’t have my shoes yet. Because I am a champion crammer, I didn’t think of the shoes I’d wear until the last minute.
With just a few days to go before the wedding, I started to panic. I checked Schu’s multiply page and found this beauty:
Jackpot! The color is perfect, it’s pretty and the heel is low enough for me to walk around without stumbling and spraining my ankle. Now if only they had it in my size.
Schu owner (and fellow polish lover) Ruby Gan said they still had a pair in my size at the Trinoma branch.
And the night before the wedding, I finally got my shoes.
They’re so pretty. So pretty that when Tatin saw them, she decided to buy herself a pair too. And that’s awesome, we can be shoe twins.
On the morning of the wedding, I found myself at Tatin’s so she could do my makeup and Bea could do my hair. I’m surprised I managed to get up early – I was in the office until 4 a.m. But when my alarm went off, my eyes popped open. I was that excited.
I was so happy to finally be putting on the gown and the shoes.
Because December is insane and I didn’t have time for a fresh pedi, I ended up wearing my two-week old Chanel Coco Blue pedi to the wedding.
Not really a bad thing.
And this is my Catherine H mani which I hurriedly did before Tatin started doing my makeup.
I was in my gown and in my heels but I still carried around my backpack. That’s how old flower girls roll.
Gabby was the first person I saw at church and I grabbed the chance to catch up with him.
Soon, everyone arrived and I went up to the bridal car to say hi to Kathy who was just glowing.
Once inside the church, Shayn and I were asked to line up with the other flower girls. And, as we towered over the little girls, that’s when it hit me. Holy crap, we’re the oldest flower girls ever. Were we really doing this?
Oh yes, we were.
The little girls kept turning to stare at us and you could read their minds. “Who are they?” “Why are they here?” “Why are they so big?”
Shayn and I started to panic because the other little girls were already holding on to their flowers – pretty flowers in black and white floral cones with pearl handles.
“Where are our flowers?” Shayn and I kept whispering to one another. Soon, the coordinator was in front of us. He had pretty bouquets for us but did we mind giving them up? There were two little girls who didn’t have flower-filled cones. No problem, we said, give them the bouquets.
But one little girl refused to touch the flowers so Shayn ended up getting hers back.
The coordinator looked at me, the poor flowerless flower girl, his face a mask of apology. But I just grinned at him. No worries, I said, it’s fine.
Ruthie came to the rescue with pretty wreaths she made me and Shayn wear. I was finally a real flower girl – I had flowers in my hair.
Forgive the messy hair, this photo was taken long after the party started.
Kathy was a vision as she walked down the aisle. We were all bawling. Some of us more than the others.
Kathy was a picture of poise and grace all throughout the ceremony.
It was a beautiful beautiful wedding and I will never ever ever forget that beautiful first kiss. I swear, the moment was so beautiful and tender and sweet and touching. It was cinematic.
After the wedding, we all posed for portraits at the church. That’s me and Shayn with the awesome couple and the real flower girls (and ring bearers and coin bearers).
Yeah yeah, we looked out of place but so what? Being old flower girls rocked.
And we had the chance to throw petals in the air as Kathy and Enad stepped out of the church.
The reception was super fun.
We spent way too much time at the photo booth,
tossed back tequila,
and just enjoyed the company of friends.
I also obsessed about everyone else’s shoes.
These were the killer red shoes worn by Patricia, Leidy and Ruthie.
And Jill’s and J’s awesome pairs.
And naturally, I obsessed over polish.
Mine and Jill’s. She was wearing YSL’s Black Lapis.
After the wedding, some of us dropped by Cafe Breton for crepes and coffee.
And yes, by then, my hair was a mess but I still refused to take my wreath off.
I’d still be wearing it now if I could.
Kathy and I have been friends for ten years now and we share a lot of memories. Crying in our school lobby as we watched the 9/11 attacks on CNN, her coming to my rescue with rubbing alcohol when this guy in our class showed up with chicken pox (I’ve never had it – scared to death of it), faking a love scene on the stairs for Gabby and Patwee’s project for our photojourn class, that crazy weekend we spent at Ruthie’s working on the magazine which was our group project, all those days spent playing hooky and watching movies instead of going to class and so many more.
I am so glad we can add her wedding to our list of beautiful memories.
Last Friday made me realize how much I missed my college friends. And how lucky I am to have them in my life. I love you guys, I really do.
(Photos swiped from Jill, Momon and Ruthie.)
