The Wedding Issue

Chapter One - The Editor in Chief

The early morning rays managed to seep through the scattered clouds and make their way to the wall-sized window of my bedroom. Waking up to such a view is one of the reasons why I decided to live in a penthouse, especially when the view incorporates the beautiful city of New-York and all its skyscrapers. That, and literally being on top of the world, is how I begin my mornings. Beyond the wits and the intelligence, I was still a dreamer, not that I would ever let it show. In today's world, it was better to be bossy, thirty-something-year-old, independent woman than a dreamy-eyed, hope-filled adult who lives in her own bubble of serenity. That part of me I always left behind on the bed because she was too damned innocent to face this harsh, prejudicial world.

I wake up at five-thirty every morning, and after I've enjoyed the breathtaking sunrise, I slip into my tights and sweatshirt, grab my phone and earphones and go for my morning jog at Central Park. I enjoy starting my day that way because it resonates the idea in my head that there is always room for improvement. Life is a race and I'm on my way to being the best version of myself I could possibly be. No one can hinder me or stop me. I am an unstoppable force and I will come with a monumental blow. And being in good-shape is an added perk.

I also enjoy the fact that I could people-watch without seeming like a complete freak. Human interaction is something that deeply fascinates me; especially the way men and women treat each other. Central Park had a lot of early joggers, both sexes, and it was the perfect way to get your daily dose of sexual tension, couple drama and of people trying to convince themselves that they still "got it". A modern Shakespearean tragedy.

Almost everyone in the park was running to the same beat, and they came in different shapes and sizes too. There were dog walkers, body builders, models with their compulsively horny trainers, yoga instructor with his class of cheating housewives, the creepy cellphone guy, the older gentleman and his barely out of high school gal pal. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I couldn't quite comprehend why men and women would subject themselves to such situations so early on in the morning. It's like they need that boost of confidence to cradle their senseless insecurities.

Well, the women used this jog to soothe their insecurities. Men just enjoy the view. Baywatch has turned into Parkwatch with beautiful ladies flaunting all they've got and gentlemen drooling all over the view, and they weren't even trying to be subtle about it. A guy actually stared me down while he was running alongside another woman. Classic. And the perfect example as to why I lead a prosperous, single life. With chivalry, moral integrity, faithfulness and pure romancing dead, what was the point of being in a relationship anyway? And it's not like I had any real-life idols to look up to when it comes to this matter. It seemed like nothing more than a cry for pain to me.

After that empowering morning jog, I showered and then made my way to my favorite part of my penthouse; my color coded closet. It's like walking into a color-wheel with every shade in the spectrum. A kaleidoscope of colors, if you will. It also happens to be the biggest room in the house. It simply had to be.

I also arranged my attire and shoes in terms of event and time of day. It makes it so much easier to pick out what to wear, makes my closet look so much neater, and so, so pretty. Of all the closets in both the Upper East and West Sides, mine was award worthy. I could give Blaire Waldorf a run for her money.

I was feeling particularly classy this morning, so I went for the classic black pencil skirt and an off-white suit-shirt, tied my hair up in a casual semi-neat pony-tail, slipped into my favorite pair of Loubitons, grabbed my Michael Kors nude clutch and was off to work. That's right; I'm a working girl.

'Good morning, Benji', I wished the driver as I stepped into the car.

Benji's the most loyal human being I've ever met. No matter how much shit I get myself into, and God only knows the number of times, he's always been there to drag me out of any unpleasant situation. He's like the older brother I never had. He handed me my regular cinnamon spiced latte and cinnamon muffin and I thanked him with a warm smile.