Bridal Showers

I didn't used to hate bridal showers. In fact I'm sure I used to thoroughly enjoy them. I was full of young, girlish sentiments and relished in the thought of having my own one day, I would get new dishes, pizza pans, and wait....frilly underwear? No, no, I'll just take the pizza pans thanks. Apparently, the concept of bridal showers has completely changed since my St. Johns days. Nobody gives pizza pans anymore. What the?

In the last month I have been invited to and attended six bridal showers. Six. I think that is more bridal showers in one month than I have been to in my twenty (nearly) years of life. These bridal showers have been a major shock to my fragile nerves. "Such spasms and flutterings!" Six days of torture in one month. I would rather sit through physics. Several times. I can't even describe how horrifying they all were. In fact I'm glad I can't describe it because I don't want to take anyone's innocence away. Mine was cruelly ripped away from me in the form of cute invitations and promises of good food.

I feel sorry for my husband--whoever he may be. In fact I might not even get married because I'm so traumatized. But if I do, we're going to adopt our children and sleep in twin beds. Sorry future husband, but when I think of bridal showers and marriage, this is what happens to my face:

And you don't want a wife who looks like that permanently.