Naked in the Castle

Remember when I wrote about the things not to do at a wedding, most of which I have done, here.

Yeah, well I forgot one.

A MAJOR one.

Like I seriously can't even imagine how I forgot this one actually happened to me.

Okay so lets just jump right in.

I was at a wedding.

In Edinburgh, Scottland.

At the Castle, you know this one.

via

aka where princess Zara got married.

No, it was not here wedding.

All the men are in skirts  kilts, and I have a fascinator on, just to be fun and in the spirit.

 See, I wasn't kidding.

The ceremony was finished, and I was at the reception. 

Seriously the prettiest and most intimate (read there were only 30 people at the wedding) reception I have ever been been invited to.

Anyways we had just finished eating, and the cutting of the cake was happening.

One of the boys (the bride has one boy, and the groom has two) was walking by with a strand of decorative cake pearls in his mouth, and he was trying to eat them.

I bent down, to say, "Oh, honey those aren't for eating."

And just as I finished delivering those words, I felt and heard a rip in the back of my dress.

Panic stricken and wine influenced, I freak out.

I never took a course titled "What to do when your dress tears at the seam at the fanciest wedding you've ever attended".

So I stay bending down and feel my back side, and to my relief the lining of the dress  was still intact.  So I scadoodle (aka waddle awkwardly to the corner of the room) where another guest is seated.  She was invited very last minute, but was also the seamstress of the brides gown.

 The seamstress in beige, and brides gown that she sewed.

 I tell her what has happened, and take a seat next to her.

She summons a waiter and asks for a sewing kit, he fetches one, and she escorts my scadoodeling self to the kitchen.  She has me with my butt facing her, face down on a table in the kitchen.

(you are welcome for the visual)

And shes attempting to stitch back the seam of my dress.

 As a back ground on my dress, it was from Nordstrom.

The fancy department, aka it was not form BP, and was $200, and my size.

It wasn't distastefully tight or anything, I even got it bride approved before I bought it. 

Anyways the seamstress, Nina, is struggling to get the seam back together, and tell me she, "...I need it off," I hear charming Scottish accent.  So without any hesitation or second thought, I rip of my dress and hand it to her, leaving me in my heels, bra, underwear, and fascinator, in the kitchen of the Edinburgh Castle.

Everything was all good until a waiter walked in, and about dropped all the dessert plates he had just cleared. I'm thinking it was because I looked so darn good, but it was probably because he didn't expect to see a naked girl in his kitchen.

He proceeded to politely clear the dishes, and bring me a table cloth to wrap myself in.

What a gentleman.

Nina finished sewing my dress, I put it back on, and proceeded to rock out on the dance floor.

And there you have it ladies.

Single most embarrassing thing that has happened to me, EVER. 

Happy Monday.