To serve as some sort of distraction from the various ups and downs of my love life, my beautiful best friend has taken it upon herself to thrust me head-first into a new hobby: maid of honor. While I am honored and appreciate said distraction, going from 0-M.V.P. in 6.3 seconds flat has me feeling slightly lost, and GPS is in no position to navigate me through the storm ahead. Aside from the various fun duties a.k.a., party planning, I get to bide my time with the teeny tiny matter of the dreaded bridesmaids’ dresses. I’m not entirely sure who initially thought that proper wed-iquette dictates that thou shalt dress in Pepto-Bismol-style pastels while skipping down the aisle, but thanks for that. People may confuse me with an Easter peep, but rest assured that pretty pink abomination is yours truly. Saving grace exists in the form of four other girls I get to share this time honored tradition with, so at least I’m not alone. And when I inflict this traditional torture on my fair friends in the future, it will be in black, because once you go black, you never go back.