Don't worry, this is a family friendly blog! This embarrassing moment happened before the ceremony.
The morning of my wedding day, I went to the neighborhood beauty salon to have my hair styled by Cindy, who had been cutting my hair since I was a little tyke. Cindy put my hair in rollers and sent me to sit under the hair dryer for a while, as she put curlers in another lady's hair and gave that lady's husband a haircut. The lady was under the dryer herself, and her husband had plopped down to wait in a nearby chair with the Reader's Digest when Cindy began styling my hair into a wedding-worthy updo.
As the elaborate hairstyle took shape, the older gentleman put down his Reader's Digest and watched Cindy work for a few moments. Then he smiled congenially and asked, "Well, what are you gettin' all gussied up for, little lady?"
"Ruthie is getting married, today," Cindy answered for me.
"Married!" the man hooted, slapping his Reader's Digest against his knee. "Married? Why, you can't be more'n twelve years old!"
I blushed furiously while Cindy reassured her customer that I was old enough to get married. I was horrified to think that I'd been mistaken for a pre-teen on my wedding day.
Looking back, though, can you blame the guy? It's just a good thing he didn't have a chance to see my fifteen-year-old groom.