From Bachelorette To Bride & Everything In Between: Why The ‘Walk Of Shame’ Is No More!

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    walk-of-shame-fbI could not have been happier. My fiancé surprised me for my birthday. (You caught that right? Not even a nano second after he put the ring on my finger I started calling him my fiancé.) I still had an entire day to continue celebrating because he proposed right after midnight on my birthday. I was surrounded by all of my friends and family, and where I thought we would be celebrating our engagement alone at my home in Connecticut, he surprises me again with a hotel suite in midtown Manhattan.

    But wait…I don’t have any clothes, toiletries, shoes…I have nothing for tomorrow. I knew I would not be able to make it home before my original birthday plans were to start the next day, so I just decided that I would figure it all out in the morning. I am about to go have a CELEBRATION for two with my future husband, just us two….well, us three. Me, him and my new ring!!

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    Now, let me tell you guys something I have not done in a long time. I said I was going to keep it all the way real, so I am sticking to that. I have not done a “walk of shame” in a long time. Many of you are familiar with the term “walk of shame.” It is also known as the “stride of pride,” amongst other witty terms to describe that elevator ride/ walk / train ride / taxi ride / ferry, whatever your desired mode of transportation is from your night of adult fun with a significant other, boo thang, friend with benefits or just plain old booty call. Your hair ain’t quite right, you still have on last night’s clothes, your make up might be smeared all on your face…ya’ll know what I am talking about, quit playin’!

    Anywho, my new fiancé and I had a magical night. We were giddy thinking about our future, giddy thinking about our wedding, just plain old happy! We had so many questions, but decided to just enjoy this blissful state we were in. After spending most of the morning cuddled up talking, I realized we needed to get dressed soon. He made brunch reservations for us in Brooklyn and I did not have any clothes, undergarments or hair products with me. So I had to make that dreaded trek down the elevator, through the hotel lobby, onto the streets in broad daylight in my short dress on from the night before, one of his button down shirts draped over me, my hair looking a fool because my clip in tracks had been removed (don’t ask) and no underwear on, searching for something to wear today and that included panties!

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    I initially walked into a drug store to get toiletries until I saw the long line of patrons and I decided I didn’t want to be judged so I bolted out of there quick, fast and in a hurry. I scanned the area and could not find one store within a block’s radius, so I ran for my life for about three blocks until I came up on a Strawberry store (ladies in the South, this store is comparable to CitiTrends, Wet Seal and Rainbow). I knew I wouldn’t be judged for my appearance in there (no shade), so I had to make something work. Without trying on anything, I grabbed a sundress, a thong, threw some cash on the counter and, again, I started to run from my life.

    UNTIL…

    I looked down at my ring and realized, “I ain’t got to be ashamed no more! I’m getting married!”

    And with the most confident stride full of pride because I am engaged, I–at a snail’s pace, with the biggest smile on my face and cheap dress in my bag, walked back to the hotel to be with my fiancé,  jacked up hair, no panty-wearing, clothes from last night sporting and all!

    About the Author: She holds multiple degrees, is a natural born socialite, a business owner, an extreme exerciser of faith and a realist. After 3 years of dating and a year of being engaged, she is ready to tell the truth about what to expect when you are transitioning from being a single woman with no worries to a future wife. For the sake of these articles, let’s just call her Nina. After all, that was here “Club Name” for over 15 years….so yeah, introducing Nina.

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    Originally seen on http://hellobeautiful.com/

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