I tried on the dress today. You know the one- THE dress. THE special dress for THE special day. The feels like a million bucks when you're wearing it, dress. The, ohh, ahh doesn't she look amazing dress.
I bought THE dress almost a year and a half ago. Yes, I suppose that is early to buy THE dress, but it was a moment of true serendipity. It was meant to be. The little off white dress that I'd always envisioned as my wedding dress was RIGHT there in the window of one of my most favourite stores. It stopped me in my tracks. I'm surprised that I didn't cause a pedestrian rear-end collision the way I froze mid-step. I floated in to the store and over to the rack. There were only 2 left- one in my size.. maybe. I didn't hesitate when my (soon to be) favourite sales woman, fashion councilor, and generally amazing fashionista asked me if I wanted to try it on.
She pulled across the thick velvet brown curtain to the change room. I must have stared at the dress for at least 3 minutes before I carefully took it off of the hanger. I unzipped this most amazing dress and carefully slid it on. The zipper purred as I pulled it up. Holding my breath, I looked at the mirror.....
It was perfect. My dream, beach wedding dress, and I was wearing it!
A few hours, one coffee meeting and an amazing friends opinion later and the dress was in its bag and I was on my way home, triumphantly carrying my prize.
Fast forward one and a half not so active, too much eating out and too much wine & beer filled years later.
I've just finished my lunch of soup (that's good, right?) Not so good is that the soup followed the rest of a giant bag of cheetos that have been living in our cupboard since this weekends BBQ party. oops. And I was craving something else salty (blame the PMS) so I accompanied the soup with some crispy hash browns. yikes.
Looking down at the newly forming roll on my stomach I decided that enough was enough. I needed to know where I stood with my dress. Could I even get it on? I boldly took it out of the closet, stripped out off the comfy haven of my sweatpants and took a deep breath.
I got the dress on. It kind of fits. By kind of, I mean that even if I was wearing spanx you'd still be able to see the panty lines...... but I can still easily zip it up. And there's 5 months... just over 20 weeks to go until The Wedding.
I'm going for granite.
Granite?
Rewind to last March. HTB (husband to be- as he will be called from now on) and I are lying on one of the best beaches in the world. At a mostly European resort. The most amazingly fit, yet still sporting curves, woman walks past us. She is in such good shape that as she walks, nothing shakes. Nothing is even thinking about shaking. It is impossible to not look at her tiny little boy-cut, derriere revealing, bikini bottoms. And the not shaking that is not taking place there. HTB and I are impressed. It is impossible not to be. We nickname her Granite.
Screw Gold. I'm going for granite, for January. I need to go public so I don't succumb to things like evil cheetos. Or the chips and dip I bought last weekend (see- told you I've been bad). I need to have pressure. Five months until beach wedding day should suffice!!
