I am getting married.

To most, these four beautiful words ignite feelings of glee, excitement and the sentiment of ”AHHH! At last! MY day has arrived!”

I, much to my chagrin, am not most.

Please do not misunderstand me - I love my fiancé and can’t wait to be his wife. I am lucky. And, like all men and women about to embark on this blissful journey of lifetime commitment, I cannot understand how or why someone actually, willingly and soberly agreed to spend the rest of their life with me. Fingers crossed he doesn’t come to his senses.

But, being a wife, partner or companion does NOT - most certainly does NOT - have anything to do with being a BRIDE. No, my friends, being a BRIDE is a frightening, once-in-a-lifetime experience that capitalizes on the unsuspecting and the ill-equipped.

Women must shed their single-girl-status via the same farewell performance: plan and execute an overpriced circus of an event, where even Aunt Mildred gets to eat for free.

This is where my story begins - and the fun ends.