“When I was a girl, no one ever called me beautiful.”

- Marilyn Monroe

Some people have asked me what my favorite television show is, and I usually reply that I don't watch that much TV. The reason being is that episodes end with a cliffhanger that makes you wait till the next week to find out what happened. Without even realizing it, after last week's column, I created my own version of the cliffhanger. I apologize, and I'm here to make good.

So without further ado, I give you the climactic ending to my creation of a great Halloween costume.

As you read, I decided upon being a bride this year, and I had some female friends helping me pick a wedding dress and cosmetics. No real drama there, until it came time to put the outfit together. You see, once the shopping was done I was left to my own faculties to get things together. This is where my problems began. Getting in my dress. Understand that most men have zippers that we deal with on a daily basis. But they're located in the front, right where we can see them. Women, on the other hand, put the zipper up the back where you can't even tell what's going on.

I think this might be why women are taking so many yoga classes lately. It's not to get in shape, it's so they can be able to get dressed in the morning. The bra was simple enough, though I still needed to get some cantaloupes to complete the look. (Note to anyone in my office. I wouldn't recommend the fruit salad I'm bringing in on Monday; you don't want to know where it's been.)

Once I was dressed the only thing left to do was apply the makeup. I did my best, but after my initial test run I looked like a model - for Picasso. I couldn't understand what I did wrong, so I called another friend and she advised me I had to “blend” my makeup.

Now the only time I usually blend anything is when I'm making a daiquiri, and at the rate I was going no amount of any beverage was going to help me look any prettier. I took her suggestion, though, and started blending cosmetics all over my face. When I was done I looked more like a bruised bride than a blushing one. The embarrassing part was when the NYSEG meter-reader guy knocked on my door, and, well, there I stood in my wedding gown and botched makeup. I was going to try and explain the situation, but what could I really tell him? He broke our silence with the pivotal question: “Halloween?”

“Yep!”

He didn't say anything after that and left with a grin on his face. I stood there comforted by the fact that at least I can be glad that Halloween only comes once a year.

I'm not sure I'm man enough to be a woman twice.

Auburn native Bradley Molly's column appears here each

Sunday. He can be reached at lovonian@hotmail.com