Once I had the dress and sandals on, I moved to the mirror and began applying my makeup. Truth be told, years ago, I had learned how to apply makeup like a professional. I looked like an entirely different person when everything was done, glamorous even. I rarely wore makeup though after a disastrous date my first year in college. It rained on us, and I had to wipe away most of my makeup while we waited for the unrelenting downpour to stop. After I did, the guy asked me why I wanted to trick men into thinking I looked one way, when in reality I didn’t.

Ever since, I stuck to the lighter side of the makeup application, making sure to keep things simple. I had a lot of self-esteem issues, some far worse than the ones I dared to remember, and as a result I took things people said about my appearance to heart. That was the only excuse I had for the selfie that I posted to my IG account. It served a couple purposes. First, my family could see that I was just fine, and they’d think I was out living a good life. Second, as shallow as it seemed, the ego boost from the fact that I looked fantastic, and people were commenting about, was much needed.

Once I was satisfied with my look, I grabbed the hotel room key, stuck it in my little clutch, and headed downstairs. I didn’t bother with leaving the hotel since there were already far too many sites to see on the premises. Instead, I moved into the shopping areas and found a more appropriate dress to get married in tomorrow, along with shoes that would compliment it. I snickered at the idea, because the dress chosen was even less traditional than the one that I was currently wearing. It certainly would set the mood for my marriage though. I charged it to the room and had it sent up while I made my way to the casino floor.

Since I wasn’t 21 yet, I pulled out my fake ID. I know what you’re thinking, those guys in Vegas could spot a fake a mile away. True, but my ID was the real deal. I’d used my old college roommate’s information to get the state issued ID. She no longer lived in Georgia, and never had an ID issued to her from there anyway. It sucked that it was her name I had to go by, but honestly this was the first time in two years when I needed to use it. I made it onto the casino floor, even though I was two months under the legal age to be there, and that’s all that mattered for the moment. Gambling didn’t actually appeal to me, I just wanted to soak in the atmosphere so I could one day write about it accurately. Plus, it seemed really depressing to be the lonely spinster binging Netflix while in Vegas on the night before my all-too-real, fake wedding.