“Oh, it must have been stuck on a piece of thread,” I replied, almost fainting from the intense physical exertion. But it was more than worth it. My karmic debt was settled. My lie was a make-good that would surely render me guiltless of my earlier transgression.

As she stared in the mirror, I could only see myself. We looked so much alike it was frightening. Her bright eyes. Her warm smile. Though the years had been rough on her, she still maintained an elegant look of royalty. This was her day, and no matter how many times she was to travel down the aisle, she was my mother. Good, bad, or indifferent, she is my mother and I love her.

My Aunt Joann, our family’s resident wedding planner, suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Ladies, it’s two o’clock. Showtime.”

Smiling, my mother looked to me. “Are you ready?”

“Am I ready?” I replied, somewhat thrown by her question. “You’re the one getting married. The question is, are you ready?”

Pausing for a moment, she took both my hands, looked firmly into my eyes, and offered softly, “For a chance at love and security, no matter how fleeting, a woman is always ready.”

For a moment, as she stared into my eyes, I began to swell with emotion. A tear almost rolled down my face. Luckily, I caught it just in time, since a tear would ruin my perfectly madeup face. Who knows what eligible man could be looming in the pews waiting for a chance to catch a glance at his future bride?

I fanned my eyes, gathered myself, and took my position at the front of the chapel doors. Slowly they swung open, revealing the opulent splendor. A church to rival the Sistine Chapel. Its high vaulted ceiling and bright colorful stained glass illuminated the entire room. The only thing missing was the Pope.

The organ sounded as I looked upon a church full of friends, family, and men. Hold up—not just men, but foine men. It was a church full of foine men and I was about to become their first vision of saint-like purity.