Weddings are Bitches.

I want the names of all the people in the world who thought it was an accurate statement to call the main bridesmaid in your wedding the made of Honor.
Honor.
Honor.
Seriously? Do you know how expensive it is to plan a bachelorette party? Not to mention, one where your dealing with alcoholics or underagers where you can't just give them a bottle and call it good. If you would have told me after my last experience as a bridesmaid that I'd be doing it again less than a year later, I would have asked you where you left the bowl you were smoking and why you choose to waste your high bothering me. What an honor. Let me tell you.
"Congratulations bestie! You have spent years dealing with my shit, and now you get to pay for it too!"
This is not an honor. Having to deal with your friends shitty friends and their shitty opinions about how shitty your ideas were for the party, but wait! what? Help? Oh no, we just offer our unsolicited opinions with no regard to you, but we definatly don't help. Money? what? you need money? Oh I'm conviently broke even though I just bought 50 dollars worth of liquor when we went out last. Shoot. Sorry about that.
I was told today that it says something about my character that I'm being asked to be in all my friends weddings. Maybe I should become an asshole so I don't ever have to do this again.
I hate weddings. You seriously couldn't pay me to do this to someone. Or myself.
The made of honor position should be reserved for your worst enemy. That girl who tormented you in high school. That woman who slept with the guy your about to marry. Because seriously. This is torture. They put you in these horrible dresses, that are either too tight, so short that you might as well hang a welcome sign to your nether regends, hideous pea soup green or a glorified potato sack. This time, its a dress thats so sheer I literally can't find a bra to wear under it. But I can't go bra less because then you see my nipples. Not to mention, with out the support it appears I'm trying to smuggle oranges across the border. So I tried one of those sticky bra things. They support you but you supossedly can't see it. But the thing is, this dress is so thin you can even see the clear bra through it. WTF. Cllllaaassy.
Oooooh and I get to dance into the reception in this pretty little number. I'm sure no one will notice if my hands are raising the roof, that my boobs are slapping the floor. Wardrobe malfunctions aside, the dress isn't that bad. But unless your as perky as the bride, good luck looking good in it. I'm beginning to think that somewhere deep inside the twisted mind of a bride, they, without realizing it, want to make you as hideous as possible. I refuse to ever have bridesmaids. I wont do it. I wont subject someone I love to a dress they hate. Or maybe instead, I should make everyone a bridesmaid who ever made me one. Eye for an eye! Tooth for a tooth! Ugly dress and memories you wish you could bleach for an ugly dress and some memories you wish you could bleach. Revenge is sweet, but weddings are bitches.