Wedding from Kendra's point of view

Con artist? No way. Sure, I may have bribed my cousin into letting me be the maid of honor, but I had good reason. The maid of honor needed to be someone who was gorgeous, sweet, and who could where a Vera Wayne designer dress along with a pair of white stilettos. In other words, the maid of honor needed to be someone like me. So by paying for half of the wedding I was doing everyone a huge favor. Besides, if I weren’t the maid of honor, it would have been that horrible, selfish, ugly sister of hers with her horrible figure and those bags beneath her eyes. No one would have wanted that.
So there I was in the most fabulous yellow and white strapless dress . As expected, my radiant looks far exceeded those of the bride’s mates. My skin just absolutely glowed with the pureness of an angel and my curls bounced to a tune of their own. I carefully watched the best man and groom take their place. As I baffled my mind on how the groom could be so handsome in a baby blue suit, the wedding participants began to take their place. To be quite honest, I had never found the groom to be an attractive man, but he sure knew how to clean up.
“Oh no, honey! Your dress isn’t zipped up in the back and the wedding is starting! Here, let me do it for you.” said an unfamiliar voice with the sound of urgency to it.
I turned around to see some obnoxious middle-aged woman with huge sunglasses and the most disastrous combination of bright colors that I had ever seen. That’s all I needed before the wedding, a loss of eyesight.
“Thank you. I uh... I like your lime green pants." I had always been good at lying.
“Why thank you. I made them myself.”
“Oh really, I hardly noticed.”
After regaining some composure, I got in line and prepared to go down the red aisle. (This in my opinion was a little too glamorous for the occasion). As I strolled down the aisle I felt a bit unstable. Like at any moment one of my $200 stilettos would break. The horrible thought itself almost caused me to plummet. Of course, I should have known something fishy was going on when those two suspicious kids offered to polish my shoes. Since when do kids offer to polish shoes? Regardless of my balance issue, I managed to make it to the end. As the priest began to speak time seemed to drag on. I had to keep on looking at the bride and groom just to make sure that I was at a wedding and not a funeral. Seriously, a simple will you take this man and will you take this woman would have done it. As the priest began to come to the closing, there was a loud nerve wrecking noise.
“Oh no, it's the cake!” A woman yelled standing next to the altar.
It seemed that some dumb ass had knocked the cake off the table and, as you expected, the drunk of he wedding threw himself down on he floor and began stuffing his disfigured face. It was the most disgusting thing that I had ever seen; which is why I couldn't wait for the reception.