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adventures of a half-chinese yalie in hollywood

Oops, We Forgot to Get Married! Bring On The Premarital Honeymoons

Oops, We Forgot to Get Married! Bring On The Premarital Honeymoons

On the heels of our latest vacation, I must dispense with a burning question/update.

Bound 2 him. Even though it's not legal yet ...
Bound 2 him. It’s not legal yet, though …

Before I got engaged, I judged wedding planning timelines mercilessly. On the one hand, I laughed to myself as a newly minted fiancée’s “Cute Save the Date Ideas!” Pinterest board flew up with head-spinning alacrity before the newly minted fiancé had even gotten up from his question-popping kneel. (Seriously though – who you kidding with the posture of “I wasn’t even expecting it!” and “This came totally out of the blue!” What, it came out of the Tiffany-blue brochures from last week’s covert ring-scouting excursion??)

Engagement ring-shopping shame is one of society's worst contributions to womanhood. I loved the empowerment of being open, honest and straightforward with our desires and plans.
Engagement ring-shopping shame is one of society’s worst contributions to womanhood. I loved the empowerment of being open, honest and straightforward with our desires and plans. Not to mention the magpie magnetism of this shopping jaunt!

On the other hand, for those couples where happy engagement is trailed by more than four seasons where you haven’t yet booked your date at the Four Seasons — well, come on, we all get to cattily chattering about the durability of those unions, no? (On another note, Gabrielle Union — honey. Honey. Never allow your engagement, revelation of fiancé’s “we were on a break” love child and nuptials to occupy the same year. Take a breath!)

These were all from a truly delightful tour of South Coast Plaza's ritzy purveyors. Queen for a day!
These were all from a truly delightful tour of South Coast Plaza’s ritzy purveyors. Queen for a day!
OK, last one. The range of hand hues details a progression from my being too sheepish to use my phone camera's flash (yielding a rather Turkish skin shade) to loud-and-proud snapping away, revealing my manual pallor (and utter lack of shame).
OK, last one. The range of hand hues details a progression from my being too sheepish to use my phone camera’s flash (yielding a rather Turkish skin shade) to loud-and-proud snapping away, revealing my manual pallor (and utter lack of shame).


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