I'd always suspected that the epilogue to all these fairy tales might, in fact, feature some of mundane ups and downs that the rest of us mere mortals go through on a daily basis. Of course, I also optimistically hoped that, after finding my prince, I would somehow be exempt from bad days going forward. Kind of like time off for good behavior, if you know what I mean.
Well, Princess . . . while I admire your optimism, that's just plain wishful thinking. Sure, you've found your prince – and he even put a ring on it! Finding true love doesn't provide a magic wand wherein your rude boss becomes polite; your lazy colleagues become motivated; slow people with piles of coupons don't smash into you with their carts at SuperTarget and inevitably get in line in front of you; and you won't suddenly be immune to seasickness, headaches, or learn to swim. (Trust me on this one. Some of these lessons were learned the hard way.)
What true love does guarantee is that you'll have someone by your side when you're having a crappy day. There will be someone whom you can cling to and ultimately try to drown when you're flopping around like a half-dead crappie in the water (true story) who won't have you arrested for attempted murder. And suddenly, there is someone not covered in fur whose opinion counts when you are facing big life decisions.
We've been engaged for a whole month, and the whole thing feels a little surreal. I am thrilled to be spending the rest of my life with a true prince of a man, and I am excited about playing dress up and finding a socially acceptable opportunity to sport a tiara. But I'm not going to lie to you. I think it might be easier to climb Mt. Everest than to plan and pay for a wedding without losing my mind. Wedding planners, hats off to you. Brides who are planning their nuptials without the help of a professional . . . you're killing me. Yes, you are. Because I am comparing myself to you and wondering why I can't summon up the energy, courage, or whatever it takes to call a damn wedding planner and you're practicing calligraphy; taking ballroom dance lessons; and shaming me via newfangled social media forums like www.pinterest.com. How are you so sure about where to have the wedding, what kind of dress you want, how many people to invite, whether to have chicken or beef? Darn you, perfect brides . . . I want your secrets. And I want them now.
In the meantime, I've discovered that true love, combined with a shared love of food (especially pizza, buffalo wings, and nachos) has reintroduced me to the clothes in the back of my closet, also known as "double-digit sizes". So, before I call a wedding planner, select a dress style, pick a date, or anything else, I've decided to focus my attention on what's really important . . . getting back into my skinny jeans.
While I hate to disappoint, there will be no wedding updates, no tales of "Princess turned Bridezilla", until I banish these XXL sweatpants to the back of the closet or give them to the Salvation Army. You can, however, watch this space for updates on my "Pedal off the Pounds" progress. This shall include but will not be limited to things like whining about my weight; complaining about lack of motivation; cataloging my middle-aged aches and pains; and even some exciting details about how much water I've consumed and how many veggies I ate. And there will likely be an ode to wine forthcoming, since I have sworn off the grape until zipping my pants is no longer the cornerstone of my strength training.
Now, if I can just stop thinking about cake, we might be on to something.
© 2012 Princess D
