"Going to the chapel and I'm...

... not getting ma-a-arried. Gonna be a bridesmaid and that's really, really sca-a-ary...."

It's official - my little bro, Beavis, has set a date to be married, booked a church and, most offensive of all, his fiancee has asked that I be a bridesmaid in the wedding. Shoot me. As I have maintained throughout my rants - I mean posts - I am very happy for them and wish them all the best. I was looking forward to attending the wedding. I was not expecting to be in the wedding. It's like rubbing salt in a wound. My mother, the cloying event-planner June Cleaver-Blogshaw, is nothing less than thrilled. To ease the process of judgement for all, I'll be standing before everyone just begging to be picked apart like a witch on trial or a whore at church.... wait a minute.....

In summary, I will be forced to participate in the following torture:

* hen party ridiculousness
* shower ridiculousness
* I'll have to work extra hard at the gym to defy the laws of gravity in the meantime
* I'll have to buy and wear what will no doubt be a ridiculous and unflattering meringue-like dress
* I will literally have to stand in front of the jury and be on display for all to point and laugh at like the bearded lady at the circus (and, like said bearded lady, I would like to maintain that I am a victim of circumstance...)

Ohhhhh, and god help me, I'll have to participate in the humiliating ritual of the tossing of the bouquet, which, undoubtedly, I'm doomed to miss, drop or take right in the head!!!