Reader, for the second time in my life, I am going to be a bridesmaid. And this time round, I'm old enough to drink at the reception. Delightful! Let's face it, weddings are basically just a big party anyway, so being the only sober one there is hardly delightful. Even for an eight year old.
I may, however, get kicked out of the bridal party pretty early on. I keep threatening to get ideas from My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding for the hen do. Especially ideas involving glow in the dark tutus and dogs in costumes. Sadly, the bride to be is a stylish sort of lady, who doesn't like the idea of drinking games or willies left right and centre. She does not appreciate the finer things in life, like bodyshots and rude scavenger hunts. Such a shame. She hasn't yet vetoed the cake in the shape of a caravan, but I'm pretty sure it's only a matter of time.
*le sigh* my creative genius is so misunderstood...
Ah well. I suppose I should be grateful. I don't have the figure to be able to pull off a sequinned crop top. Only Keira Knightly and the dancers on strictly come dancing can get away with that.
In other news, it's an utterly gorgeous day today. Not quite warm enough for picnics and cones of ice cream, but warm enough to ditch at least one layer from my winter wardrobe. How exciting! Spring is on its way! Oh god, suddenly thinking about swimsuit season, having to regularly shave my legs and the inevitable freckles and prickly heat that all pale people are doomed to suffer..hellfire.
I'm off to stockpile suncream Reader,