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Rahima Suleiman
Student @ Nasarawa State University
The Wedding Shoe Disaster
<p><br></p><p>---</p><p><br></p><p>The Wedding Shoe Disaster</p><p><br></p><p>It all started with a pair of shoes. Not just any shoes—four-inch, sparkling, silver heels that looked like Cinderella designed them herself. And unfortunately, they were half a size too small.</p><p><br></p><p>“I’ll break them in,” I told myself, standing in front of the mirror on the morning of my cousin Cynthia’s wedding. “Pain is temporary. Fashion is forever.”</p><p><br></p><p>Big mistake.</p><p><br></p><p>The drama began before we even got to the church. My best friend Tanya, who was already mad at me for being late, stared at my shoes and said, “You walk like you’re escaping a crime scene. Are you okay?”</p><p><br></p><p>“I’m fine,” I lied, gritting my teeth. “These are limited edition.”</p><p><br></p><p>We finally got to the venue—a stunning garden setup with flowers that probably cost more than my car. The wedding was perfect. Until it was time for photos.</p><p><br></p><p>Cynthia, the glowing bride, asked me to help her adjust her veil for a picture. I stood on tiptoe—bad idea #2—and suddenly, SNAP.</p><p><br></p><p>No, not the veil. My right heel.</p><p><br></p><p>I went down like a collapsing lawn chair, arms flailing, crashing straight into the wedding cake table behind me. The entire three-tiered vanilla masterpiece tilted in slow motion, like a scene from a movie, and landed face-first on my chest.</p><p><br></p><p>Screams. Gasps. One kid clapped.</p><p><br></p><p>Frosting everywhere—my dress, my arms, even in my ears. And there I was, one heel snapped, one arm full of cake, and one very shocked grandmother staring at me like I’d ruined her bingo night.</p><p><br></p><p>For five whole seconds, there was silence.</p><p><br></p><p>Then Tanya said, “Well, at least you matched the cake.”</p><p><br></p><p>And just like that, the entire bridal party burst out laughing—including Cynthia, who declared, “This is the most memorable wedding gift EVER.”</p><p><br></p><p>Even the photographer got in on the moment. I now exist forever in Cynthia’s wedding album as “The Cake Crusader.”</p><p><br></p><p>Later, barefoot and sticky, I sat under a tree with a paper plate of what's left of the cake.</p><p><br></p><p>“I told you not to wear those shoes,” Tanya said, offering me a wet wipe.</p><p><br></p><p>“Yeah,” I said, smiling despite everything. “But they looked really good in the mirror.”</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>---</p><p><br></p><p>Moral of the Story:</p><p><br></p><p>Sometimes, life gives you cake… in the face. And that’s okay. The best memories often come from the messiest moments.</p>
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