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THE WEDDING OF THE CENTURY


Some names and details have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals I’m gossiping about. Just kidding! A couple of weeks ago, Husband and I were informed of his uncle’s wedding. A bit surprising since he was already married to the PYT no one had met yet. Last Wednesday, Uncle calls and apologizes for not informing Husband of his wedding sooner but hope we could attend. Of course, I waned to go! Free food? Wedding cake? And in the words of messy family, “I want to see how she looks.”

We were instructed to arrive at the wedding 2 hours prior since we were transporting Father-in-Law who happened to be the Best Man. I was told the wedding would take place about 30 minutes outside of Jackson and slept during the ride because… pregnant. Upon opening my eyes, I saw an alter, food, tables and chairs. I exclaim “so, the whole wedding is outside?” I had already concluded that I would likely spend the entire wedding in the car. It’s hot and muggy, then grass! Do you know what grass is full of? Bugs and whatever makes me breakout into hives and have eczema outbreaks. Anyway, a few minutes later Father-in-Law told me “baby girl, you ought to get out of the car.” Me: I’m not sitting outside. Then, Husband told me Uncle would be transporting us to the main house so we won’t have to be stuck outside until the wedding starts. The main house?

Turns out, we were on over 100 acres of Mystery Bride’s Family Member’s property who is a plumber that moonlights as a pastor in a town I’ve never heard of. There were houses and trailers all over; as a result, of allowing family to build on his property. It basically looked like a neighborhood that had not been approved by the Zoning Board. Nice guy, nice concept but I would not want to stay near family; unless, they feed me.

The main house was not the antebellum mansion I imagined in my head but big enough. We were greeted by a ton of super nice strangers including a woman who kept referring to Uncle as “Unc.” They seemed mighty comfortable with “Unc” which was interesting because we had never met Mystery Bride or her family *stares*

It was finally time for the wedding. Then, we were told the carriage was outside. The carriage? Yep! There was a giant black horse featuring 80 inches of yaky, a carriage and a little black man with a top hat. Now I know horse and carriages can transform weddings into fairy tales but at this moment, I felt like I had traveled back a couple of centuries and that it was a strong possibility I owned slaves. We were helped into the carriage and up the gravel road we went. The ride was worse than any roller coaster I have ever been on. Not only was the road rocky but extremely hilly so I was fully prepared to fly out the carriage at any moment but we made it back to the location of the wedding and I didn’t vomit. Gold star for Ashlee! Anyway, while leaving the carriage, people begun taking photos of us like we were some type of backwoods royalty. At this moment, Husband’s Aunt informed me that my slip was rolled up. I had on one of those skirts that is see-through with a short slip under so I proceeded to raise the see-through part and pulled my slip down in front of all the guests. All they saw was a little thigh, not that big of a deal. If I hadn’t adjusted it, they would’ve seen way more than that. After being seated, the carriage went back to pick up the bridesmaids and bride. I guess the wait was too long (approximately 5 minutes) because Father-In-Law’s feet started hurting so he sat down. Although the bridesmaids had arrived and were walking down the aisle, homeboy was still sitting down.

Finally, Mystery Bride arrived. As she made her way down the aisle, I turned to Husband and told him “I have to use the bathroom” then laughed hysterically. I think it’s worth mentioning that everyone used the bathroom before getting in the carriage but me. I turned to one of the what in modern times would be considered a wedding worker or maybe server but because it was 1817, you know what they are… Anyway, she pointed to the nearest house where I went to potty 🙂

A few minutes later, I was back at the wedding in time for the vows which could not be heard over the generators powering the giant fans because it was hot and muggy. Shortly after, they exchanged rings and a very, long and uncomfortable tongue-kiss ensued. Very dramatic for people who are already married if you ask me. After, the happy couple was whisked off by the horse with yaky and carriage for a wardrobe change. Yes, a wardrobe change. Meanwhile, the wedding cake was doing a shoulder and gansta lean. It was hot as hell and the cake appeared to be melting and giving up on life.

We were then informed we could eat. I was first up but then wanted to sit back down. There was fried chicken, what appeared to be hot wings, fruit, some type of pasta that looked like it could’ve also been a salad, meatballs (I think), pinwheels and sandwiches. Did no one inform the wedding planner that I only came for the food and not for one of those free conferences that say “lunch provided” then when you get to lunch, you realize that you’re going to have to leave for a real lunch? I got 2 pieces of fried chicken that appeared to have garlic sprinkled on it, strawberries, grapes and cheese. Once Husband arrived at the table, I asked him if we were going out to eat after we left the wedding. He shook his head, my Father-in-Law laughed.

The happy couple returned and were informed they needed to cut the leaning tower of wedding cake because it was about 2 seconds from committing suicide. The cake was beautiful. It was 3 layers covered in roses. Watching them take the top layer of the cake off was fun. You know, the part they eat in a year? Anyway, It started to fall apart mid air but they caught it and will be able to enjoy their blob of a cake once the year comes around. Speaking of the cake, it was pretty good but was stale when I ate a piece the next day. They should’ve got their cake the same place my mom got my grandmother’s cake for her 84th birthday, 2 weekends ago. Her cake was still moist the next day.

Most of “Unc’s” family didn’t make it to their first grass dance. We were ready to go; especially, Father-in-Law aka the Best Man. You guys, it was literally an hour and twenty minutes after but you know heat is draining. Everyone and their outside stench hopped in Husband’s car, I fell asleep again and woke up as we pulled up to Father-in-Law’s home. I guess it wasn’t so bad.

Fin.

Oh, I almost forgot. Congrats to the newlyweds! I wish you guys a long and happy marriage. And, this happy couple is responsible for planning the next family reunion. I wonder if the horse with yaky and carriage will make an appearance. Fried catfish and family members can be transported back and forth which could be helpful. The horse would surely be entertaining to kids who can braid it’s hair and put little beads at the end. I wonder if we could get a family reunion shirt for the horse. That would be nice.

Read and share my previous post: Another Blog Post Complaining About Pregnancy Ft. Baby Gumbeaux

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ANOTHER BLOG POST COMPLAINING ABOUT PREGNANCY FT. BABY GUMBEAUX

As stated during The First Trimester, I’ve been experiencing shanked-like pain since I’ve been pregnant. According to my OBGYN (who I’m supposed to be able to trust), it was round ligament pain as a result of a growing Baby Gumbeaux and the expansion of Baby Gumbeaux’s condo. The pain would come and go, happen whenever I made sudden movements and last for a couple of hours but the pain returned on Sunday. It was more intense and invited my legs and back to join the fun. By Tuesday, I was at my OBGYN office. During the sonogram, Baby Gumbeaux was pictured bouncing and kicking me. Totally unbothered and lacking empathy which means Baby Gumbeaux is already displaying the same traits as me. Through the pain, I could not have been prouder.

The pain was as a result of degenerating fibroids. According to the Fibroid Treatment Collective:

Fibroids are noncancerous tumors that grow on or in the muscular walls of the uterus. If the fibroids aggressively grow, they can degenerate, causing significant pain to the patient. They are living tissue, requiring oxygen and nutrients to survive and grow, supplied by blood vessels in an around the uterus. When fibroids become too large, the blood vessels supplying the blood are no longer able to provide enough sustenance to meet the needs of the fibroid. When this happens, the cells of the fibroid begin to die in a process called degeneration.

Scary, right? That’s nothing compared to the list of complications which include but are not limited to the cute stuff like abdominal pain, vaginal bleeding, frequent urination and constipation to the scary stuff like miscarriage, premature delivery and infertility. In contrast, the doctor that I am supposed to trust predicted that I shouldn’t spend my entire pregnancy in pain. I was prescribed pain medication for 3 days then took a couple of days off. The medication didn’t work and with the pain, I didn’t get much rest.

Today, is the first day I don’t feel like I’ve been shanked so maybe my doctor was right. I have another appointment later this week and am expecting demanding better news. Besides learning about how much pregnancy sucks, I hope you take a moment to learn about your family’s health history. Had I never been informed of the fibroids, I never would’ve went on my pity party tour and learned that women on both sides of my family have suffered from fibroids. This makes them 100% responsible for this. Yep, this is all of your faults.

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MY “NEW” MATERNITY WARDROBE? FT. BABY GUMBEAUX


It all started when I received a text from an aunt asking me to stop by her house after work. I found this unusual because I’ve never received a direct invite before. I consider myself as Husband’s plus-one. On the other hand, I think pregnancy makes family want to be closer so I agreed to drop by but spent the next 2 hours of work wondering what she could possibly want with me. So I figured it was likely because she has millions of dollars hidden in the walls of her home and wants to establish an inheritance for Baby Gumbeaux or because she wants to kill me because I don’t have the pedigree to continue the family line.

Once inside of her living room, I saw tons of shopping bags. Did she buy stuff for Baby Gumbeaux? How sweet but I hope she kept the receipt. However, she just kept walking until we reached her bedroom. It was the first time I had been that far in her house. I don’t remember what she said word-for-word because it was an out-of-body experience but it was along the lines of don’t shop for maternity clothes because I have tons and tons of plus-sized clothing scattered throughout several closets and you’re welcome to it. That’s super nice, right? Sure, but plus-sized clothing does not necessarily equate to maternity clothing. Most importantly, she’s 70 and I am 31 but it gets kind of worse. I had to try on each piece of clothing. This is the most compliant I have ever been in my life but quiet honestly, I never got the opportunity to say “no thank you.” Also, the situation is a little complex because I did recognize it as extending an olive branch. Me rejecting aforementioned olive branch would result in me being deemed ungrateful and uppity which is mostly true.

My new “maternity” wardrobe is very colorful and consists of materials and patterns I have yet to identify. Note: I need cotton and breathable materials. I am already a sweater but worst since becoming an incubator. Anyway, there were a lot of 3-piece sets. You know, tops and bottoms or dresses that come with the buttom down shirt because a lady never shows her shoulders or elbows. However, you should be happy to know that I drew the line at pantsuits. I detest them.

Although the plus-sized clothing is twice my pre-incubator size, I know that my growing boobs, belly and butt could easily fill up certain sections of the new wardrobe. And quiet honestly, it was not all bad. There are some basics that could be altered to look more like the sexy pregnant woman that I am but she wants her clothes back; as a result, there will be no altering or delivering clothes to the Salvation Army in the middle of the night.

The last stop on the “maternity” shopping tour was a closet full of coats. I thought I saw a fur back there and because I am new money, I would definitely wear it. Year around and everywhere such as shopping for groceries, pumping gas, getting a manicure, etc. If this post does not get me banned, I am coming for that fur.

Last but not least, no I have not worn anything yet and yes I’ve seen here since my shopping spree. The last time she said “you better get out of those tight clothes” which was actually a maternity bodycon dress because it’s 2017 and pregnant women no longer have to hide their bumps or dress in circus tents. Yeah, so… “like” Baby Gumbeaux on Facebook, and follow on Twitter and Instagram. Read and share my previous post: Faux Product Review 48: Sacha Buttercup Setting Powder

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FAUX PRODUCT REVIEW 48: SACHA BUTTERCUP SETTING POWDER


I forgot how I found out about this. It was likely as a result of researching something else which lead me to YouTube reviews of this product then Amazon and here we are. Description:

Buttercup is a finely-milled, yellow-based setting powder. It is specially recommended for women with medium to deep skin tones. It can be used as an all-over face powder to highlight or set your concealer and foundation. It is a completely flash-friendly finishing powder and does not give off a white cast or turn ashy in bright lighting or photos. It absorbs oil, reduces shine and keeps your face matte for hours. Most women also purchase our flash-friendly Buttercup Compact to keep handy for quick and easy touch ups.

Additional features and details:

  • FLASH FRIENDLY – You never get a white cast or look ashy in bright lighting or photos
  • SPECIALLY RECOMMENDED – with medium to deep skin tones
  • SET – Use as an all-over face powder or to bake/set your highlights and concealer
  • FINELY MILLED – Fills in fine lines and pores for an incredibly smooth finish
  • OIL CONTROL – Absorbs oils, reduces shine and keeps your face matte for hours

Why do you need a setting powder? Setting powder “sets” your makeup to ensure it lasts and reduces shine. Well, that was easy.

So, I’ve been using this to set my BB Cream for a few weeks and have a lovely finish but by the afternoon, I have to reapply pressed powder because I look like a frying pan of grease ready to fry chicken. This could be a result of: (1) being knocked up, (2) sucky primer, (3) sucky finishing spray, (4) sucky skincare routine and or (5) being knocked up.

So do I regret this purchase? No. Should you buy it? I don’t know, why are you asking me? For more, visit Amazon.

Update: In Faux Product Review 47: True Complexion BB Cream, I mentioned that my grandmother was on a search for Fashion Fair and that I was hoping to help her transition but she located ANOTHER Fashion Fair counter at her local mall. My other grandmother fills in her brows with a black pencil *pours out liquor for lost causes*

Read and share my previous blog post: The First Trimester Ft. Baby Gumbeaux

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THE FIRST TRIMESTER FT. BABY GUMBEAUX 

Disclaimer: These are my symptoms, everyone is different. While my experience was not the worst, I am dramatic so it was the worst. 

My first symptom as an incubator was fatigue. I could barely get up in the morning, slept during my lunch break, fell asleep as soon as I got home and slept my weekends away. Although I increased my workouts for energy, it didn’t work. Actually, I am still quite tired and think I will take a break right now.

OK, I’m back. Next, was balancing hunger with nausea. I was accustomed to eating breakfast when I felt like it (which was usually a smoothie) and had appetizers for lunch and dinner but no. Baby Gumbeaux demanded I eat when I woke up then snack, lunch then snack, dinner then snack. I understand the new trend is to eat several small meals a day but that has not been my ministry. On the other hand, I am grateful that I did not suffer from excessive vomiting; although, I was really excited to vomit on people I don’t like. No wild cravings but I always have a really bad aftertaste which works out in my favor because when I say someone’s food sucks, I can now blame pregnancy and everyone should believe me but probably not. Mostly, because I just told you my plan.

I am not particularly fond of the teenage acne that has emerged. I pay entirely too much money for skincare and follow too many steps to look like Nestle Crunch and as stated in my previous post, I’m less “pregnancy glow” and more “soul glow.” Note: If you don’t know what I am talking about, please google that reference. Damn Millennials. 

One symptom that was very scary and is likely here to stay is cramping. I thought I left that shit with my menstrual period. Apparently, it’s as a result of of my uterus expanding and feels like Baby Gumbeaux is shanking me. I did not experience any spotting and no constipation. That’s for suckers.

Last but not least, pregnancy has resulted in the shortest patience on earth which is surprising because I thought I already had the shortest patience on earth. When some things bothered me, I would just ignore it or talk behind their backs but some of these people now get a response. A very nasty response. The kind of responses that could end relationships and do you know what my immediate reaction is after such wickedness? Laughing hysterically. A quote from a friend: “You will go down in history as the meanest, crankiest pregnant woman in the history of the world and nobody will ever say hey Ashlee, have another baby.” She then named me “Preguella DeVille” which I like and would like on a t-shirt. However, I’ve tried to avoid these situations and attempted to get advice. Luckily, I was able to vent to my pregnancy cohort in the “What to Expect” App and learned that we are all living in a constant state of rage. How cool is that?

Well, this was fun. Read and share my previous post: Faux Product Review 47: True Complexion BB Cream Don’t forget, I’ve created separate social media so I won’t stink up Pink Gumbeaux with baby stuff you care nothing about. “Like” Baby Gumbeaux on Facebook, and follow on Twitter and Instagram.