In keeping with my reputation of being my own worst enemy, I am about to embark on an escapade that is already making those who know me completely hysterical and not helping my self-esteem one bit. Also in keeping with the way I have lived my life so far, I have decided to complicate matters inextricably, knowing fully well that I will have myself and also the boyfriend to blame.
That's right. I am about to get married.
We've fixed it for December. Because it's a cool month and it's the last month of the year and because it aptly signifies the last few days of my being single and happy. And because when I choose to marry and in which month is my business, not yours.
It's only a court marriage, so no point getting your best suit or most garish saree out, because you're going to feel (and look) silly. There is no after-party either, so bad luck there as well. Of course, Greta Garbo wanted to attend the Bachelor Bash and the Spinster Party and the Wedding Dinner, but by now, he understands. A lot of the people who now know of this strange turn of events are either questioning the logic behind such a ceremony ("It happens once in your life, do it in style, na!") or applauding our sturdy common sense. Either way, no frills and fancies.
Right now, I'm enjoying watching the shock spread slowly across the face of whichever sucker either Sandy or I give our happy news to. Also, we'll be doing up the house this month, so that should be fun.
See you'll later.