Shahdi Season

If I were to tally up the number of reasons as to why no one would "Shahdi" me, a prominent factor on that list would be the mere fact that I can not muster up the slightest tolerance for weddings, engagements, Mehendis, Baraats, Valimas or random dancing events. I refuse to ever subject myself to be seated on a stage with ten pounds of make up "Tophafied" on my face and an additional twenty pounds of bridal attire. I refuse. I refuse. I refuse. I will not be put up for show while random people compare me and my oh so unlucky newly captured husband who wouldn't have the slightest idea about the horror show that is his wife.
As much as I hate "Shahdis", I can't run from the fact that my living room table is filled with wedding invitations and amongst the many engagements this year, one of my closest friends is getting engaged. As much as the thought kills me, I will have to allow myself to be painted with make up and feel like an oompa loompa for three hours tomorrow night all while trying to smile through the paint.
Why must we have such traditions when it comes to marriages?
Food. It must all be for the food. I'd get married for food.