Bride of Chucky

Well shoot, I’m getting married.

It’s been 5 weeks since The Boy King proposed on the top of a mountain in the middle of the West Texas desert. It still feels silly and giddy and strange. Yet at the same time it feels right, calm and deliberate. I present you with the first in many lists on this blog (Mama loves a list):

Realizations of a recently engaged 41 year old human:

I still fidget with my ring (not big on jewelery from the wrist down).  

I still find myself texting my partner “We’re getting married!” on a regular basis.

I still can’t say the word fiance without feeling like the most obnoxious person on the planet.

I hate that all the wedding dress models look 12 and are a size 0.

I wish it didn’t have to be so expensive.

We’re adults now (or will be soon).

We’re legally bound (or will be soon).

I should get pre-approved for a mortgage.

I should do my taxes.

I should be planning, picking a venue, finalizing a guest list bla bla bla.

Things I’ve actually done since getting engaged:

Adopted another dog.

Tune in next week where I lose my mind. Again.