My big FAT Indian wedding
Come on – you knew it was coming…

God, I’ve been trying to avoid it, but I can avoid it no longer. Luckily, I’m a passive participant and have played absolutely no role in the planning whatsoever. So – that means if you go to the wedding (you probably won’t) and hate it, don’t complain to me. And don’t ask to see pictures.

The in-laws insist on throwing the big shindig and Dr. Laser is going along, so I’m going along for the ride too.

However…
I didn’t know that going along for the ride would mean that I would have random women at Indian sari shops shouting at me or about me to others – because I’m a giant by comparison. Apparently, I have huge feet, huge wrists and a giant chest which cannot possibly fit into anything ever made for an Indian woman…. Whatever. All I know is that everyone seemed to think it was perfectly normal and acceptable to constantly comment on my size, weight and stature. That is, everyone except me. This never happens to me at Bloomingdale’s.

Death and …
It’s tax time which means that we have to sit down and file a return. Okay, this means I have to sit down and file the return spending lots of quality time with software and answering questions. I can only assume that I have all the information I need to do the job properly.

Of course, Dr. Laser informs me that I don’t have x, y and z – even though I asked before I started my 3 hour tour of our taxes. I had a neat little folder with “tax documents” clearly labeled – I thought it would help. It did not.

On the bright side, I don’t think we’re going to owe a lot of money for once, which is a nice change considering we’re married, have no kids and own no property – which is like the bad tax juju trifecta.

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