Yo, should I flex bigger boobs at the wedding though?

Be the mermaid, not the beige — serve drama, steal glances, and let the crowd orbit. Icon energy only.

So picture this: I was at this wedding last weekend, right? Total J.Crew vibes. Like, everyone looked like they stepped out of a Pinterest board titled “Tasteful Wedding Guest Attire.” No risks, no chaos, no ~lewk~. Just… beige energy, you know? And listen, I get it — you’re not supposed to upstage the bride or make Aunt Karen clutch her pearls, but c’mon. A little flair? A pink wig? A sequin? Something to make me feel alive? Nah. It was giving “fashion on autopilot.”

If I were a style critic (which, let’s be real, I lowkey am), I’d have been like, “The Mayberry wedding fashion was basic on steroids.” But hey, that’s just me — I’m a glitter gremlin at heart.

Anyway, I’m perched at this tall bar table, Diet Coke in hand, doing my usual people-watching thing. (Side note: Why don’t they give us non-drinkers fun umbrellas in our drinks? I want the aesthetic too, okay?) That’s when she walks in. And by “she,” I mean this absolute mermaid of a human who looked like she time-traveled from Studio 54. Glittery shawl, ankle-length Spanx dress, bouffant hair that could’ve housed a family of birds — she was serving drama.

The sea of beige parted for her like she was the main character, and honestly? She was. She plops down at my table with her umbrella cocktail (jealous), and I’m immediately obsessed.

Was it the contrast to the J.Crew army? Or was she just that magnetic? Her pink glitter eyelids were blinding me in the best way, and her arched eyebrows were giving “I know what you did last summer.” Iconic. But then — plot twist — she whips off her shawl, and y’all… her chesticles entered the chat. Like, they had their gravitational pull. It was like watching a magic trick in slow motion. One second, she’s a glamorous space alien; the next, she’s the human equivalent of a Renaissance painting.

And let me tell you, the men at this wedding? They noticed. Our table went from chill Diet Coke zone to full-on testosterone convention in 0.2 seconds.

So yeah, that’s the tea. A wedding that started as a snooze fest ended with me questioning my life choices and wondering if I, too, should invest in a glittery shawl. Moral of the story? Be the mermaid. Always. So imagine this: we’re all just vibing at this wedding, right? And then, out of nowhere, it’s like a 70-foot wave hits the room — except instead of water, it’s just a tsunami of dudes rushing toward our table.

Like, full-on gravitational pull. And my new BFF, the mermaid queen? She’s just sitting there, unbothered like this is a regular Tuesday at the Olive Garden in Ohio. Icon behaviour, honestly.

But let me set the scene for you. Seconds before this chaos, these dudes were all coupled up with their wives or dates, looking like respectable adults. And then? Poof. They’re suddenly orbiting her cleavage like seagulls around a French fry. I’m not even kidding — it was a full-blown mosh pit of middle-aged men trying to impress her. I was just there, Diet Coke in hand, living for the drama. They were all talking over each other, too, like their lives depended on it. It was giving “job interview meets speed dating.” One guy’s like, “I’m Tom, I’m from out of town.”

Another’s like, “Steve was my college roommate.” Then there’s, “My son plays lacrosse,” and “I just got back from Spain.” Like, sir, no one asked for your LinkedIn bio. And don’t even get me started on the guy who was like, “I teach AP biology.” Cool story, bro, but I don’t think she’s here for a lesson on mitosis.

I was glued. It was like watching a reality show — The Real Househusbands of Ohio: Cleavage Edition. I couldn’t look away. Were these men even aware of each other? Did they think they were about to win some kind of prize? Or were they just trying to buy as much ogling time as possible before their wives came over with the metaphorical shepherd’s hook to drag them back to reality?

And here’s the kicker: none of them were getting a better response than the others. Like, they were all just shouting into the void, hoping for a crumb of attention. But nope. They were just there, basking in the glow of her… assets. Priorities, am I right?

Eventually, the wives started rolling up, grabbing their men by the elbows, and pulling them away like, “Okay, time to go, sir.” And just like that, the spell was broken. The crowd thinned out, and it was just me and Danielle — the bride’s cousin — left at the table. She was hilarious, by the way. We were cracking up, talking about the wedding, and she even told me my fortune. Meanwhile, men kept walking past, doing double takes like they were in a cartoon.

But the only one who stopped was this ten-year-old kid whose eye level was… well, you can guess where. I’m pretty sure his dad sent him over as a scout. Savage. Anyway, that’s the tea. Weddings are wild, y’all. Never a dull moment when there’s a mermaid in the room.

The Bottom Line

Moral of the story? Life’s too short for beige energy. Whether it’s a wedding, a Tuesday night, or a casual run to the grocery store, be the mermaid. Sparkle, steal the spotlight (within reason — let’s not get banned from family functions), and let the world orbit you for a change.

Because at the end of the day, nobody remembers the polite pastels. They remember the glitter, the drama, and the undeniable gravitational pull of a well-executed look.