Well, folks, come July 13, I will be all dressed in white—and hopefully only moderately fat and wide. A dear, kind, patient friend braved the suburban wasteland bridal warehouse with me and cheered me on as I tried on a handful of dresses, one of which was the clear winner—a simple, dress-shaped dress with straps to hold up my pregnancy cleavage and ruching across the front to slightly obscure my pregnancy belly. And it decidedly did not cost $1600, which my dear, kind, patient friend pointed out means I have more to spend on shoes and accessories—none of which have to be maternity-specific and all none of which I will have to shorten, dye, or otherwise alter to ever use again.
Also on this momentous day, Dr. Fiancé and I finalized a honeymoon plan, and by “finalized” I mean, we purchased actual plane tickets and made actual hotel reservations. We will be spending a week in Hawai’i—honeymoon destination to the masses. I could not be more excited—even if I weren’t pregnant.
Okay. Fine. I guess I’d be a bit more excited about going to Hawai’i if I were allowed to eat mango. But only a teeny bit.