Yes my lovelies, last week, after precisely four years, forty one weeks and one day, my delicious boy Mr S asked me the second most delightful question a girl can hear (after 'Would you like me to buy you those shoes and bag my dear?). Yes, he asked if I would marry him.
After the obligatory pause (it's good to keep him on his toes), I of course replied with the affirmative.
And so I find myself with a beautiful diamond ring on my left hand. After telling family and friends (my Nana's exact words: 'What carat gold is it?' 'It's not gold Nana.' 'Oh Livy... it's not silver...!' 'No, it's platinum.' 'Thank God.') and being asked a million times when the wedding would take place, we developed an automatic response that we are just going to enjoy being engaged until Christmas and that we were in no rush, two maybe even three years.
Unfortunately, I got distracted in Smiths on Friday and ended up buying six bridal magazines and a pink organiser.
So yes faithful readers, Bridezilla has been unleashed. Now is eight bridesmaids excessive....?
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