And then there were six, and we beat up the boys.

I am the first to admit that I'm mildly retarded. (Read: idiot, to be politically correct).

I also make rash decisions, such as, "let me buy a road bike so I can do triathlons, and then never do triathlons!" And, "I should refinance my car one year before it's paid for so I can be stuck with it for another five years!" And, "Yes! One more drink!"

You know, stuff like that.

And then I got engaged. Which, no, people, was not a rash decision. You should be ashamed of yourselves. But, I got engaged. And my first thought? "I want bridesmaids! Now! All of them! Give them to me NOW!" So, approximately eight minutes after getting a rock on my finger (not really eight minutes), I rattled off the names of each and every bridesmaid I demanded to have.

"I want AJ and Lori. Erin, too. And my sister, duh! And Beth. Oooh, I want Beth!"

And there I had it. Five bridesmaids. Because obviously it didn't matter how many men my groom would like to have stand up for him. But we both settled at five. And the world was right.

Only, it wasn't really right. Because one time, in college, I had a roommate who accidentally saw my boob when I was traipsing around the apartment in a robe, unaware that my entire right breast was exposed, which, as we know, happens rather frequently around these parts. And we laughed. And still do, five years later.

And that one time irritable bowels made me late to work, and I sat screaming to her from the toilet, telling her to inform our bosses I'd be there soon, as she was on her way out the door. We also continue to laugh about my irritable bowels.

And when her boyfriend broke up with her, and mine did the same, we cried. And we stayed up late, crying about it. And she gave me a teddy bear that she named Brad Pitt. Because, she said, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston just broke up, and he's single now, too.

And eating an entire pan of deviled eggs (bad idea), deciding bangs were a good idea (bad idea #19) and getting tattoos on a whim, because why not? Or smoking cigarettes for a night because, whoa! We're rebels! And, by the way, we subsequently threw up, together, in the bar bathroom, from said cigarettes. I knew I wasn't meant to be a smoker.

We were classmates, friends, roommates, best friends, enemies, coworkers and have come full circle. She's one of my best friends. But wait a minute, moron, she's not in your wedding.

I needed my bridesmaids, immediately. And, in that immediacy, I overlooked the girlfriend who was, literally, at my side all the time. Because in the eight seconds after I agreed to become a wife, our friendship wasn't as strong. And me? Well, we know I'm retarded.

So I chose my bridesmaids, carried on with my duties as an engaged woman, and increasingly felt a piece was missing. You know, other than money. I was missing a best friend. And dammit, that is not cool.

So, because this is my wedding, and I can do what I want, I asked Mandy to stand up in my wedding and complete my circle. And I realize the wedding is only two months away, and, "oh my God, you picked a bridesmaid THIS late in the game?" But remember that one part where I said I can do what I want? OK, good.

And when we're all looped up on champagne at the wedding reception, I want her to stand up and proudly tell everyone that one time, I wore her underwear, because I forgot to pack a pair.