SOMETIMES I catch Yer Man watching me, out of the corner of my eye.

“Why are you staring at me like that,” I’ll ask, wiping non-existent chocolate from my mouth, reaching for a mirror to see if that spot which has been threatening to explode on my chin for a week has come in.

“No reason,” he’ll say, leaning in for a kiss, tipping his head to the side and looking at me in that odd way again.

I ask every time, but the truth is, I know.

I know why he’s watching me. Why he’s looking at me like that.

The same reason I’m looking at him like that. The same reason I’m watching him out of the corner of my eye.

In sixty days we will be married. And I can hardly believe it.

There is a picture of us together on our bedroom wall, a black and white portrait, taken just after we got engaged. In it we are grinning goofily at the camera, happy, in love.

I’ve always loved that picture, mainly because it makes me look less fat than normal, but recently I’ve been looking at it in a different light.

One day our grandchildren will look at that photograph and ask us about it.

How old we were. Where it was taken. Why it was taken.

They’ll show it to their friends and say things like ‘This is my Gran when she was young’ or ‘The state of the clothes in them days!’

I feel as though my old life is drawing to a close and I am racing ever closer to the start of a new life.

A new life with grandchildren. Grandchildren who will slag me over the state of my clothes. The bastards.

Although we’ve been engaged since 2008, it is only now, as the invitations go out, that I’m starting to recognise that I’m getting married, to really think about what it means to get married.

I will have a husband. I will be a wife.

And that is huge.

Enormous.

Gigantic.

Our invitations have gone out and I’m convinced we’ve forgotten someone, my diet has gone out the window and I’m convinced that I won’t fit into my dress, we have yet to make a decision on a cake after our previous baker let us down in spectacular fashion and our bank balance is decreasing at an alarming rate.

But in sixty days we will be married. And I can hardly believe it.

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