White Wedding
Chapter 1- The Perfect Attire
A white wedding?
Honestly?
Talk about the death of my soul.
Do you see me? Second to last row. A little further to the left... there you go. Blonde hair, pink streaks, fishnets, converse, and all.
Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Please don't let this be another story about some emo teenage girl and her "hard life"'. Well, I am here to let you know, that this story is exactly the opposite of what you were expecting. Hopefully, you are in for a pleasant suprise....then again, maybe not. Well, read on and find out!
Where were we?
Oh yes.
The White Wedding...
"Juliet Katharina Rumer!", first of all: yes, that is my name. Yes, that is my mother screaming it at the top of her lungs from the bottom of the stairwell. Yes, my parents are english professors (specializing in Shakespeare), hence the name. And finally, yes, I was an extremely annoyed, angsty teenage girl with My Chemical Romance chords splitting my eardrums through headphones with the volume cranked all the way up.
"Juliet Katha-"
"Thank you! I heard your headache inducing scream the first time mother!" I screamed back at my mother through the open doorway of my room. My door had been removed last week. Apparently, those of us who choose not to respond to their given name at a parental unit's every beck and call, do not deserve the "privelege" of privacy.
"Well, if you had been listening, instead of thinking of your next snappy comeback, you would have understood that you need to be dressed and ready to go in fifteen minutes!" she hollered back, with impressive breath support, I must say. A angsty groan escaped my lips. Was it absolutely necessary to force an unwilling adolescent to attend ceremonies for which they hold no interest in? Was it not acceptable to simply lie and say they were sick? Of course not. It was in fact, absolutely acceptable to force them into humiliation and a dress, and thrust them into the open arms of crowd just waiting to pinch their cheeks until they burned. And the elderly population wonders why their youth is so "angry".
To my own personal dismay, I found myself obeying my mother's orders like a good little stepford daughter. Well, almost. At that stage of my life, I found it nearly impossible to completely obey every order. I had some sort of sick personal need to inflict revenge on those around me (especially my parents). Their grave and clever punishment in this episode, was my increasingly stylish pairing of my sherbert orange bridesmaid dress with black fishnets and electric blue high tops (my color coordination was rather iffy in those days). Either way, I found myself flouncing down the staircase with a mocking smirk plastered on my face. My mother, who was in the process of inserting an earing into her right ear, turned to aknowledge my arrival:
"Oh good, you're ready-", she looked, "I was just getting ready to-", she double took, "I- I was-" she half screamed, half sighed, in frustration. "One thing Katharina! One thing I ask of you! You find it impossible to obey one simple order! ONE! UGH KATHARINA!"
Side Note: When I was born, my parents each had picked out a name. Neither of these names were used. Apparently, they were not fitting to my "stature". Instead, my father, who found me increasingly adorable at my inevtiably cute baby stage, decided that my true name was "Juliet", because I was so sweet and easy to love. My mother, on the other hand, saw a different and more sardonic side of my baby cuteness (or possibly, she may have still been bitter about the nine hours of labor she had just been through) and decided that a more fitting name would be "Katharina" because of my more evil and tempestuous side. But, unfortunately for my mother, she was asleep when the hospital asked my father to sign my birth certificate stating my first and then middle name. When she did awaken, she was drowsy, and signed the certificate without reading it's contents. Thus, my first name became Juliet, and my middle, Katharina (representing two different sides of my personality? it's possible). Therefore, when my mother became cross with me, she called me Katharina to give significance to the witch I was named for.
I smiled an angelic, adorable little smile. "Why mother dear! What are you talking about? I am dressed and ready to go, within the fifteen time frame you alloted." I gave the skirt another fluff and flounce for effect.If my mother's eyes had not been twice their normal size a few moments ago, they were now.
"I can't-I just don't be-" she began, but stopped abruptly while shaking her head. She began to mutter some incomprehensible phrases under her breath, possibly something about the ignorance of youth, but I'm not entirely sure. Now, I'm not positive if it was the fishnets, the converse, the hair, or the overall effect, but she walked out of the room without breathing a word to me.
Oh well, I thought, some people just can't appreciate decent fashion.
Now that I had managed to create the perfect outfit, all I had to do was play the part of the worst wedding attendee ever imagined. Oh the thrills of youth!
Honestly?
Talk about the death of my soul.
Do you see me? Second to last row. A little further to the left... there you go. Blonde hair, pink streaks, fishnets, converse, and all.
Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Please don't let this be another story about some emo teenage girl and her "hard life"'. Well, I am here to let you know, that this story is exactly the opposite of what you were expecting. Hopefully, you are in for a pleasant suprise....then again, maybe not. Well, read on and find out!
Where were we?
Oh yes.
The White Wedding...
"Juliet Katharina Rumer!", first of all: yes, that is my name. Yes, that is my mother screaming it at the top of her lungs from the bottom of the stairwell. Yes, my parents are english professors (specializing in Shakespeare), hence the name. And finally, yes, I was an extremely annoyed, angsty teenage girl with My Chemical Romance chords splitting my eardrums through headphones with the volume cranked all the way up.
"Juliet Katha-"
"Thank you! I heard your headache inducing scream the first time mother!" I screamed back at my mother through the open doorway of my room. My door had been removed last week. Apparently, those of us who choose not to respond to their given name at a parental unit's every beck and call, do not deserve the "privelege" of privacy.
"Well, if you had been listening, instead of thinking of your next snappy comeback, you would have understood that you need to be dressed and ready to go in fifteen minutes!" she hollered back, with impressive breath support, I must say. A angsty groan escaped my lips. Was it absolutely necessary to force an unwilling adolescent to attend ceremonies for which they hold no interest in? Was it not acceptable to simply lie and say they were sick? Of course not. It was in fact, absolutely acceptable to force them into humiliation and a dress, and thrust them into the open arms of crowd just waiting to pinch their cheeks until they burned. And the elderly population wonders why their youth is so "angry".
To my own personal dismay, I found myself obeying my mother's orders like a good little stepford daughter. Well, almost. At that stage of my life, I found it nearly impossible to completely obey every order. I had some sort of sick personal need to inflict revenge on those around me (especially my parents). Their grave and clever punishment in this episode, was my increasingly stylish pairing of my sherbert orange bridesmaid dress with black fishnets and electric blue high tops (my color coordination was rather iffy in those days). Either way, I found myself flouncing down the staircase with a mocking smirk plastered on my face. My mother, who was in the process of inserting an earing into her right ear, turned to aknowledge my arrival:
"Oh good, you're ready-", she looked, "I was just getting ready to-", she double took, "I- I was-" she half screamed, half sighed, in frustration. "One thing Katharina! One thing I ask of you! You find it impossible to obey one simple order! ONE! UGH KATHARINA!"
Side Note: When I was born, my parents each had picked out a name. Neither of these names were used. Apparently, they were not fitting to my "stature". Instead, my father, who found me increasingly adorable at my inevtiably cute baby stage, decided that my true name was "Juliet", because I was so sweet and easy to love. My mother, on the other hand, saw a different and more sardonic side of my baby cuteness (or possibly, she may have still been bitter about the nine hours of labor she had just been through) and decided that a more fitting name would be "Katharina" because of my more evil and tempestuous side. But, unfortunately for my mother, she was asleep when the hospital asked my father to sign my birth certificate stating my first and then middle name. When she did awaken, she was drowsy, and signed the certificate without reading it's contents. Thus, my first name became Juliet, and my middle, Katharina (representing two different sides of my personality? it's possible). Therefore, when my mother became cross with me, she called me Katharina to give significance to the witch I was named for.
I smiled an angelic, adorable little smile. "Why mother dear! What are you talking about? I am dressed and ready to go, within the fifteen time frame you alloted." I gave the skirt another fluff and flounce for effect.If my mother's eyes had not been twice their normal size a few moments ago, they were now.
"I can't-I just don't be-" she began, but stopped abruptly while shaking her head. She began to mutter some incomprehensible phrases under her breath, possibly something about the ignorance of youth, but I'm not entirely sure. Now, I'm not positive if it was the fishnets, the converse, the hair, or the overall effect, but she walked out of the room without breathing a word to me.
Oh well, I thought, some people just can't appreciate decent fashion.
Now that I had managed to create the perfect outfit, all I had to do was play the part of the worst wedding attendee ever imagined. Oh the thrills of youth!
♠ ♠ ♠
Billy Idol deserved a story in his honor. What do you think?-Christine