Salon.com > Christine Macdonald

Maid of dishonor

Sat, 14 Jul 2012 00:00:00 +0000

A longer version of this piece originally appeared on Christine Macdonald's Open Salon blog. It was written in response to an open call for sibling rivalry stories.

Armed with a half gram of cocaine, I locked myself in a bathroom stall and straddled the back of the toilet with my dyed-to-match pastel pumps, my strapless, floor-length bridesmaid dress dangling precariously over the seat. I knew I still had time before the wedding toast because I could hear the music thumping down the hall. Besides, no bride expects her maid of honor to be high on drugs on her big day -- especially when it’s her younger sister.

At 18, I had little life experience, so my mother served up a crash course in maid of honor etiquette the night before the wedding. My toast was to be lighthearted and personal, a trip down memory lane with my sister and new brother-in-law. The problem was, I didn’t really have any stories, nice or otherwise. Short of the pre-wedding hullabaloo, my sister and I barely spoke.

Madonna, my partner in aging

Thu, 21 Apr 2011 20:01:00 +0000

The first time I heard Madonna sing she was telling me to get up and do my thing. I was 14 and dancing with Mitch Ruben, one of my many high school crushes. We were barefoot, dancing on the grass in the backyard of Lori Morgan's house. I couldn't make eye contact so I just swayed to Madonna's "Everybody," looking at the clouds, the grass, the sky, my feet. My mouth closed, I traced my braces with the tip of my tongue underneath my upper lip, snapping my fingers and feeling alive. High on hormones and Fresca, I lost myself in the lyrics: Let the music take control / Find a groove and let yourself go / When the room begins to sway / You know what I'm trying to say.

By the time high school graduation rolled around, I was one of a slew of 17-year-old Madonna wannabes donning a forearm full of black rubber bracelets, fake rosary beads and lace headbands. The song "Holiday" became my personal anthem, my break from the anguish of everyday teenage life.