When Jessie’s maid of honor, Emily, showed up in a dress that Jessie didn’t pick, her picture-perfect wedding day took an unexpected turn. Emily’s shocking attire sparked chaos, setting the stage for some sweet payback.
Hey everyone, Jessie here! Two weeks ago, I married the love of my life, Kevin. It should’ve been the happiest day ever, right? Well, thanks to my so-called best friend, let’s just say it became a story for the ages — and not in a good way.
Emily, my supposed best friend, the woman I’d chosen as my maid of honor, managed to steal the spotlight in the most outrageous way possible…
Emily and I have been best friends since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. We practically grew up together.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Emily’s a great friend, supportive and always there for me. But there’s this one tiny, well, not-so-tiny detail about her — she’s a tad competitive.
It started small, you know, harmless races on the playground to see who could reach the swings first. In high school, it was all about grades—who could snag the highest GPA.
Then came college, and suddenly, it was about who could throw the most epic birthday bash. You name it, we “competed” at it. But hey, that was all in good fun, right? Or so I thought.
Despite her win-at-all-costs streak and arrogance, we always managed to stay close. I never really saw it as a competition; I just figured a little healthy rivalry pushed us both to be better.
We navigated life together, from scraped knees on the playground to the corporate jungle of our careers.
And when my boyfriend Kevin popped the question, there was no doubt in my mind who’d be my maid of honor—Emily, obviously.
Planning the wedding was a whirlwind of excitement. I wanted everything perfect, down to the last detail. Romantic elegance was the theme, with soft hues of lavender and blush creating a dreamy spring garden vibe.
The bridesmaids’ dresses were a beautiful shade of lavender, the perfect complement to the whole aesthetic. I mean, I was paying for everything, dresses included, so naturally, I wanted everyone to look stunning and harmonious.
The day of the final fitting arrived, and Emily came over, all smiles and sunshine.
But as soon as she saw the dress I’d picked for her, her smile completely vanished. She held the lavender fabric at arm’s length like it was some kind of contagious disease.
“Uh, Jess,” she mumbled, “I don’t think I can wear this.”
“What? Why not?” I furrowed my brow, completely confused. This was the dress we’d all picked out together, the one everyone agreed on. And it was gorgeous.
“This color just washes me out,” she whined. “I’ll look like a ghost in it.”
Honestly, that was a stretch. The dress would look amazing on her, like it was practically made for her curves. But Emily was never one to back down from an argument, especially when it came to “winning.”
“Come on, Em,” I tried to reassure her, “it’s the same dress everyone else is wearing. You would look beautiful, trust me.”
But she wasn’t having it. She huffed and puffed, making a scene about how unflattering the dress was and how she just couldn’t possibly walk down the aisle looking like a pale ghost.
My patience started to wear thin, but you know how it is with bridesmaids, especially your best friend. You just don’t want any drama, right? So, I caved.
I reluctantly agreed to let her pick out another dress, hoping she’d at least choose something that wouldn’t clash with the whole lavender theme.
Fast forward to the wedding day. Everything was picture-perfect — the flowers, the venue, even the weather cooperated and decided to bless us with a beautiful spring day.
Butterflies danced in my stomach as I stood at the altar, waiting for the music to cue the bridal party entrance. My bridesmaids walked down the aisle one by one, looking stunning in their lavender dresses, just as planned.
Then came Emily’s turn.
Farmer Finds Pasture Empty, Sees All 32 Dead Cows In One Big Pile
In Missouri, occasional lightning strikes and thunderclaps are to be expected this time of year.
The area has suffered greatly as a result of recent severe weather and flooding.
Springfield farmer Jared Blackwelder and his wife Misty heard loud crashes on a Saturday morning after feeding the dairy cows, but they didn’t give it much attention.
But when Blackwelder went back to the pasture to gather the cows for the nighttime milking, he saw the terrible scene: his thirty-two dairy cows lying dead on the mulch piled on top of one another.
According to Stan Coday, president of the Wright County Missouri Farm Bureau, “he went out to bring the cows in and that’s when he found them,” CBS News reported.It occurs frequently. It does occur. The sheer quantity of animals impacted was what made this situation the worst.
The local veterinarian who performed the examination informed Coday that lightning was, in fact, the reason behind the cows’ deaths.
The cows might have sought cover under the trees in unison as the storm raged overhead.
Coday stated, “You’re at the mercy of mother nature,” and mentioned that he had lost a cow to lightning a few years prior.
Coday said that although farmers are aware of the possibility, suffering such a loss is extremely tough.
They are not like pets at all. However, I’ve raised every one of the ones I’m milking,” Blackwelder said to the Springfield News-Leader.Because you handle dairy cattle twice a day, they are a little different. It gives you a strong knock.
It’s also a financial debacle.
Blackwelder claimed to have insurance, but the News-Leader said he’s not sure if it will pay for his losses.
He estimates that the worth of each certified organic cow is between $2,000 and $2,500, resulting in a nearly $60,000.
“The majority of producers don’t have insurance,” Coday stated.“You lose everything if you lose a cow.”
In response to inquiries from nearby neighbors, Coday, a breeder of beef cows, would like to make it clear that meat from Blackwelder’s animals could not be recovered.
“Those animals are damaged, and when he found them, they had obviously been there for a few hours,” he remarked.An animal must go through a certain procedure in order to be processed. They wouldn’t have been suitable for ingestion by humans.
Because of Missouri’s gentler climate, Coday also pointed out that the majority of farmers in the state do not own a separate cow barn.
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