i would still belong to you in 2015

Dear Prosebox,

I am here. I have the new job, where I was promoted two weeks in. That’s got to be a standing record. I go permanent full-time sometime in June. It’s pretty decent. I get to be an editor! My cockles, they are warm. And there are running trails and a McMansion subdivision behind the office, and everyone loves fitness, so we’re all fudging our lunch hours on nice days to go run or walk.

I went to a bridal show today with a bunch of friends, mostly on a hunt for lots of free cake and food. It was awesome. I also ended up with 40 thank-you cards, which is nice. And I might have faked being in a gay relationship with a gay man as his pre-op, and faked an argument where he left me for another pre-op, and it disturbed a few vendors. I’m not sorry.

I also watched a fashion show full of attractive, charismatic men in tuxes and couldn’t stop thinking about how Aaron needs to get one already so I can take it off him.

I got my wedding dress back on Friday, fully fitted and with lacy sleeves and me-sized. It poofed out a lot with the shorter hemlines. Early experimenting suggests that removing the crinoline slip may remedy some of that. Squishing back into my bustier and dress also suggests that I need to quit being such a wintry fat cow, holy shit, and lose a few inches. So that’s fun. It would be MORE fun if the eastern US hadn’t collectively said, gee, it’s like two weeks from meteorological spring–sounds like it’s time for an extended cold snap that’s colder than deep winter’s climatological norms! Asshole weather. So I’m doing 45 burpees a day, watching what I eat, and TRYING to move/walk/run more. Desert-dry air and freeze-my-balls-off cold isn’t helping.

I get married in 27 days.

I am currently hiding from my life.

Eek.

I can’t wait.