I'm going to be a bridesmaid in an upcoming wedding. This will be my third time as a bridesmaid, but seeing as how I'm already married, I thought I would escape any superstitious hoodoo bad luck. Mind you, I was married the second time I was a bridesmaid as well, and that time the other bridesmaid and I ended up having to wear the bridesmaids dresses left over from my wedding, because Satan's couturiers found it too much of a bother to do anything more than just write down our dress order. The placing and shipping of it was somehow beyond their meagre talents.

Good times. Good times.

This time I am trying to be very organized and fulfill all my bridesmaid duties to the best of my abilities. When the bride found a top she liked, I dutifully ordered mine ASAP so as to have it in hand well in advance of the wedding, just in case it needed any minor alterations.

Then I promptly forgot about the whole thing, until my husband called me from work the other day. I had the package shipped to him because he works for a company with several thousand co-workers, whereas I work with fewer than 70 people. It sticks out more if I am receiving mysterious personal parcels at work. Plus I don't like carrying things.

"Honey, some vest you ordered is here."

For a moment I was genuinely perplexed.

"No, that must be my bridesmaid's top."

"But it has buttons down the front."

"That must be the back."

"No, I think it's the front."

By this point I was imagining the garment as having three large silver disc buttons that would gape and reveal portions of my back (or front, depending) with my every movement.

Now look at the picture:

Buttons must go in the back, yes? So that's alright, and the buttons themselves aren't bad (small silver silk ones). But. But but but. The top is cut exactly like a vest. One would not look out of place wearing a ribbed turtleneck or a cotton blouse underneath it. When attending some hippie Renaissance fair, anyway.

And to top it off, it is a size too big for me. Probably because I took my bust and waist measurements with a metal tool kit tape measure, blast my cheap and corner-cutting ass.

So now my list of "Count-down to the wedding" tasks is as follows:

1.) Either call and exchange the top (if I can) or get it altered so that it hangs less potato-sackily on me.

2.) Perfect the "Doped up on valium, back-country child bride" vapid stare that the print ad implies is the top's most fetching accessory

3.) Fight off an urge to break into several hearty verses of "See My Vest!" when at the altar during the wedding itself.