Throw Me in the Volcano


Everything is pretty much in order for the big day, except for one thing. Me. It’s time to focus on me.
I’m not used to spending a lot of time on how I look, particularly since I started working from home. Nowadays, my ritual for getting ready to go out in public involves brushing my hair and changing from sweat pants into jeans. Needless to say, I’ve had to step up my game a little.
It has taken a village to help pull myself together. There was the hairstyle dry run to make sure my hair says “party” and not “porn star.” The makeup makeover so I can be glowing, not garish. More attention to my nails than I’ve given them in years. And to top it all off, I tanned. Yes, you heard me. Faced with layering an ivory dress over my pasty self, I caved in. Forgive me epidermis, for I have tanned.
So I put it all together the other day to survey the effect: the dress, veil, undergarments, shoes, jewelry, makeup. As I looked in the mirror, for a moment I felt less like a bride and more like a sacrifice about to be thrown into the local volcano. I knew there was a reason that village got involved.
I’m ready for the big day. Now throw me in the volcano already. 
All I have to do is avoid swine flu, pimples, and broken bones. No bug bites, blemishes, or nail biting. I will remain calm, cool, and collected. No unnecessary stress, decision-making, or Type-A panic attacks. In short, no trespassing in the bride’s airspace. (I can dream, can’t I?)
But first, I need to flag down some of those villagers to do a no-rain dance, mow my lawn, clean my house, do some last-minute errands…
We’ll see how this goes. Wish me luck!


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