Wedding jitters

No, not mine! Honestly, what kind of girl do you think I am?

In a few scant days I will be walking down the aisle as Best Wench to C, the bride whose hen night we celebrated a fortnight ago. For her it's an enormous adventure as she takes the next step into the rest her life with the man she loves and for me, it's a wonderful chance to celebrate a good friend.

It is, however, not without its challenges. Ranking high on the list is my vertiginous choice of footwear, a beautiful pair of bronze peep toe heels which are the one extravagance in an otherwise demure and bridesmaid-appropriate outfit. Five inches of stiletto-heeled confidence? Yes. Disaster waiting to happen? Possibly.

But even that precarious balancing act isn't the one that's really keeping me awake at night: it's the company we'll be keeping. You see, C's friendship group is quite expansive, and I've mixed with her posse on and off for several years now.

Can you see where this is going?

... yes, I'm going to be walking down the aisle in front of a whole herd of fully paid-up members of the Ex-Boyfriend Club. Hurrah!

Any girl would want to look her best when she faces down those ravening hordes, but alas, it is not to be. The Best Wench's dress has been carefully selected to complement the bride's stunning antique gold gown and most definitely not to knock anyone's socks off on its own account - exactly as it should be, I hasten to add. But I can't shake the feeling that no matter how friendly I may be with the exes, on some deep, dark level nothing would please them more than for me to trip over my hem and tumble down the aisle like a gigantic taffeta landslide - as long as I do it in a way that doesn't detract from C, of course.

There really should be some kind of law passed to keep ex-boyfriends away from social engagements. No wonder this country's going to pot.