The end of Bridezilla
- Post 1:Not Ok. The way you speak to your mother like she's an insignificant speck. She's footing the bill. And she's too gracious to give you a smack-down in front of people.
- Post 2:We're at 450, now.
In three days we've added 100 guests.
- Post 3:But I can tell you that 332 is the magical number.
Bridezilla is a twit.
Then we get to the payoff:
As I said, there were 332 people there by our plate count. Not 450. Oh, but we had enough food for 450. There was food everywhere. And while we had to make that much food - because that's what they ordered. I was angry to think of all the extra work we had to do based on the dramatic thinking of a white-dressed twit.
The tension of the night was palpable - it wasn't just us. The Parents of Bridezilla, The Parents of The Groom, the guests, even. It wasn't your average night where people are laughing and celebrating.
Everyone had been privy to the monster that Bridezilla had become, and everyone was tired of her.
But, in a surprise twist, The Foodwhore doesn't deliver the Bridezilla's comic comeuppance. Instead, we get the mother of the bride, ever gracious, feeling no need to help rebuild the bridges her daughter has burnt. The sadness of the mother just takes all the fun out if it. Go read it, it is just brutal.