Prayer Of A Woman About To Go To A Wedding Also Attended By Her Ex-Boyfriend (And His New Girlfriend)

While I am not one given to prayer (what with not being religious and all), I think that, in extreme situations, a little help never hurts. Considering I work in a Catholic church and have been awfully nice and respectful during services for lo, these many years, I think I've earned one free chance at Divine Intervention.
And so, here goes nothing *kneels, clasps hands in prayer*....


Dear Lord....

1. Let me look absolutely fabulous; nay, not a frizz in the hair, not a clump in the mascara, not a hint of lipstick in the creases around the mouth, neither a suspicious stain or nary a wrinkle in the dress, let mar my perfect appearance.

(Also, may the girlfriend have spinach in her teeth. All night.)

2. Let not my usual friendly relationship with alcohol (AKA "truth serum") escalate into an unholy alliance that unleashes the lethal power of my venomous tongue, to share with all and sundry all the gory details of our disastrous relationship. Let not the truth serum cause me to show the full range of my immaturity and do things I may regret later, like dance like a squirrel in a blender (especially during a slow dance. ESPECIALLY during the first dance.)

3. Let not the Law of Murphy dictate that I should be seated at the same table as they, nor put in me any closer proximity than, say, two continents and a long bus ride, for the duration of the wedding and reception.

4. Let me not screw myself up; let not circumstances rattle my composure; let me not make any mistakes singing the hymns, trip over my shoes, or make any embarrassing noises during the ceremony or reception, so that my confidence should be shattered, and I should not end up in a quivering sobbing heap on one of the bridesmaids' shoulders.

5. Let me remember at all times that I am attractive, intelligent, sexy, capable, and above all, worthy of love, despite the evidence to the contrary all around me. If nothing else, let the immortal words of William Shakespeare be my mantra: "I WILL SURVIVE."

6. Let not my usual sunny disposition shew any crack in its veneer; nay, let no misery, pain, or rage show during this happy occasion, at least until I am safely home in bed with a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine, a shitload of xanax in me--and my therapist on speed dial.

I beseech Thee to aid me in my distress, and I promise that I shall return the favor to Thee, shouldst Thou ever end up at a wedding with your ex-girlfriend and HER new boyfriend.

Amen.

RM