the first to know

So Hubby obviously heard the good news. And I did get that high five, as I suspected. I’m pretty sure we’re going to go by the idea that we shouldn’t really tell anyone else until three months have passed; I’m not much superstitious, but I’d rather not tell the whole world and then have to take it back. Embarrassing. Oh, and sad too, of course.

So, naturally, one would assume that our parents or siblings would be the next to know, right? We’ll wait the requisite time, get our parents on speakerphone, tell them the good news, listen to them weeping from joy (and probably fright), have a big smile, and go to bed knowing we made their day—maybe their decade. You will not guess who actually learned first. Go ahead. Just guess for a second.

I will bet $1,000,000 you did not suspect Ed, Purveyor of Bridesmaids’ Dresses. You didn’t guess him did you? Didn’t think so. Naturally I timed this, well, Nature timed this, glorious occurrence to coincide with one of my dearest friend’s weddings, in which I will be a bridesmaid(matron?). I’ll be looking pretty rip in 6 months, so of course I will be exposed in all my African violet glory to lots of people I don't know and sweating profusely in the

Massachusetts August swamp-heat. Yesss.

The worst part really is that poor Ed, Purveyor of Bridesmaids’ Dresses, will never know how awkward and uncomfortable I was trying to figure out what size dress to order from him. I wasn’t about to tell him he was the first person to know, but I seriously put off the call as long as I could just to be sure I wasn’t ordering a dress ten sizes too big for the fun of it. Oblivious Ed accidentally shared the news with said bride-to-be, who is now the other first person to actually know. She owes me a secret though, so we’re cool.