In which she has delusions of grandeur.

I wondered today whether my previous entry had been too knee-jerk. Couldn't it be, after all, that the question had been meant in a perfectly nice way? But there is no way to tell—no context, no introduction, no nothing. No email address to respond to privately. Just a demand for information. Who asks this kind of stuff, anyway? That's when it dawned on me—I am a celebrity. There is no other explanation. Celebrities scurry from place to place as people shout questions like that. I have arrived.

Would you buy my merchandise?

And to answer your question, Dearest Readerperson, no, I will not lose weight before I get married. In fact, I am under the strictest of diets just to assure that my weight will stay right where it is. I've already got the dress, after all, If I started losing weight it might not fit right. And my fiancé might not want to marry me after all. He did propose to me while on my current weight, and he might feel disappointed and deceived should I shrink by our wedding day. I realize that this might be shocking (how could anyone be so shallow, you ask), but you never know—better be on the safe side. Oh, if you only knew what a great responsibility hangs over my shoulders. All kinds of things hinge on my wedding weight. If I lose any weight, the place where we intend on getting married would have to be completely rearranged; feng shui, subtle changes in the Earth's gravitational pull, all that. Bridesmaids and attendants would have to change their own weights to compensate, creating a chain reaction that would reach the outermost corners of the land. No, Dear Reader, it is not meant to be that I should lose weight. Not for myself, but for the good of humanity. I will accept, then, my fate, and become the first overweight woman ever to get married.

Your invitation, by the way, is in the mail.