Let the Marriage Madness Begin!!
As you know my daughter is getting married at the end of the month. So now all the last minute details are being confirmed. The other day we went and picked out tuxes. I get home from work sit down for a few minutes and Pearl says”Do you want to get suits”. I said “No, but yes”,I knew that we had to go do this. I don’t own a suit. The last time I was in one I was getting married. Pearl says she knows exactly what she wants and it won’t take long.
So off we go to Mr Neats. We are greeted by a saleswoman named Riley. Pearl asks for the suit she wants and Riley shows her which one it is. Then we get into all the suit details. We are asked things like ” What color tie”, “What type of collar”, “What color cuff links”,” Do you want to rent socks” ( Rent socks????), ” Do you want a pocket square” ( I’m thinking what the heck is a pocket square). This goes on for a while. I kind of felt like a bald middle aged Ken doll and two girls were deciding what I was going to wear to the wedding. Occasionally Riley turns to me and asks ” What do you think”. I say I don’t wear suits for a reason and I don’t know. Approximately 45 minutes and several redressed mannequins later the suits are now completely different. Everything Pearl wanted has now changed, literally everything. But the suits are picked.
Now we get to the paperwork. We are asked the bride and groom’s names, that we know. Then Riley asks us for the groomsmans’ names. That we don’t know. We’ve never met them.Why does she need them? We’re ordering 5 suits for the Younger, Kesler wedding, who cares what the groomsmans’ names are. So we have to call Audrey to get the names. She only knows them by first names. So Riley enters their names into the computer with Ben’s last name. So I guess they are now brothers.
Now we get to the part were I get sized for the monkey suit. Riley measures my arms, shoulders, waist, out-seam( thank God she didn’t measure my inseam, I’m ticklish), all the stuff to make sure I look like James Bond in my suit. Then she asks me, after measuring me, my height and weight. She just measured me why does she need this she knows what numbers I have. I’m thinking why can’t renting a suit be like ” I’ll take a number three with a red shirt, red tie , a pocket square, no socks, and supersize it”. Riley goes and gets some clothes that are supposed to fit me. The pants have an adjustable waistband. I think that’s cool and I’m trying to figure out how to get them on my regular pants, That would be handy at Thanksgiving. After getting the pants adjusted so they stay up, I try on the shirt. It seems to fit OK until I get to the collar button. I know collars are supposed to be a little tight, but I’m pretty sure my head isn’t supposed to look like a mushroom and I’m supposed to be able to breathe. She just measured my neck. Maybe she measured in metric and my neck is in standard measurements. I come out of the fitting room and tell Riley ” If I wear this shirt I will die and this will be a completely different occasion”. She says” If I make the collar bigger the shirt will be puffy in back”. Huh? How does having a big neck mean I have a large stomach( I do but the shirt is fine everywhere else other than the neck). I tell her I’ll put up with the puffy in order to be able to breathe, air is a good thing. I’m still not sure if she changed the size. I guess we’ll find that out at the wedding. If you see me passed out I’m not drunk, I’m dead , call 911. Bryan
Note: The suit in the picture on the header of this blog doesn’t count, the back is cut out of it.