Dear Diary,
It's been a long time since I've shared anything with you. I have a lot to update you on; I feel like I need you more than ever. As you know, I'm now a married woman! My wedding was supposed to be the greatest day of my life. But I kept thinking that it was the last time I would ever live with my family. For 18 years, all I knew were my parents and my little sisters. It was also my birthday. It's customary in our church to have a betrothed girl marry on her 18th birthday, as had been tradition. I was the oldest in my family, and I knew that my little sisters would soon be betrothed to their future husbands as well. We never questioned it, because we had grown up with it.
I had known my husband for 6 months prior to our wedding. He was a tall man (almost 6'4"), stocky, balding, and 24 years my senior at age 42. We had never spent any time alone before our wedding day; all of our meetings prior to marriage were chaperoned by my family. He would come have dinner at our home once a week, and I would sit adjacent to him, saying virtually nothing throughout dinner. We listened to him and my father talk about politics, current events, and especially their plans for my future and the futures of my three little sisters. We girls just sat there silently, gently picking at our dinner plates like pretty little birds.
My future husband was chosen for me because of his place in our community. He was the reverend's eldest son, which held significant status. It was an honor for my family that he had taken a liking to me. He literally could have chosen any girl in the church that he wanted, but he and my father decided that I would be the right girl for him. The age difference wasn't that unusual in our community. Up until about 20 years ago, young girls could have been married off at 14 if they wanted. Thank God they no longer do that.
My husband was still single at 42 because he had not wanted to settle down, living a promiscuous life in his youth. He had rejected the church from the time he was teenager until his 40th birthday, when he became "born again" and rededicated himself to the Lord, just in time to marry a young girl of his choosing. His father, our Reverend, was more than thrilled to have his son back in the church, and he believed that a good young woman was needed to keep his son on the straight and narrow path. He had taken his family through numerous drug rehabs and money troubles, but it seemed as if he had put all that past him.
As soon as he saw me, he knew I was to be his wife, he told my father. Not to be immodest, but I know I'm an attractive young girl. I've noticed how men looked at me. I'm 5'5", with navel length light brown hair, naturally curly on the ends. I always caught boys staring at me during church service, and the mothers would comment on my figure. I had "good child bearing hips" they said. I was voluptuous from a young age. My bra size was a B when I was 11 years old, and I had matured into a 36 C on the day I turned 18. I was athletic and had danced ballet since I was a little girl, giving me long, toned legs and a nice butt. People also said that I was pretty in an approachable way.