Shedding for the Wedding

Every bride dreams of her big day from a young age. Somewhere, a long time ago, a younger version of me planted a wedding seed in my own head. The little seed came with preconceived inherent ideas of what Wedding would be like, what we would eat and, of course, the dress. Poor, little, innocent BB had no idea what was really in store when the seed finally came to fruition and exploded in my head.

The last couple of months have been a bit of a crazy whirlwind. Milestones are flying past at break neck speed. We’ve past the six month to go mark and in a couple of days, we reach our one year Engagey anniversary. As soon as we reached the 6 month mark, time seemed to speed up. I’m almost at the point where I can see a big Masterchef clock counting down in minutes and seconds above my head wherever I go. The Wedding train is well and truly hurtling towards us and, whilst I’m still enjoying the ride, there’s not too many more stops left before we will arrive at our matrimonial destination. Add to this overwhelming, super powered time vacuum, a new player has entered the game.

Engagey was first, my darling Engagey, so young and fun, of course we have Wedding who has been present throughout, and now we have the Moon. The Moon has been loitering for some time, existing more as a vague and fluid concept rather than something with real presence. But once Moon arrived on the scene, it certainly asserted itself in an undeniable fashion and firmly entrenched itself in our lives. Moon is amazing. It holds such promise for both of us and, at times, can overshadow even Wedding. More on Moon another time.

http://shine.yahoo.com/love-sex/brides-8217-extreme-wedding-preparations-nose-tube-diet-173800919.html

But the issue at hand is one I’m sure is quite common amongst most brides. We gotta whip that bridal booty into shape! Must start “Shedding for the Wedding.” For me, the moment took place over 6 months ago, in a time filled with excitement and joy - the day I found my dress. Sitting in the boutique, listening to the lady explain the details and the schedule of the dress making process, the exultation and jubilation soon turned to anxiety when she suddenly stopped, and asked me one simple question... “How are you feeling at the moment?” Easy! “I feel amazing! Overjoyed! Super excited!” I replied. “No, love….how are you feeling? As in about yourself.” Now, say this out loud whilst looking in a mirror, peering down your own nose at yourself. With a slow glance up and down that sears through your clothes and leaves you naked, ask yourself “how are you feeeeeeeeling?”

Suddenly, I felt stripped and vulnerable as my self-esteem started to seep slowly from my being. In that look she gave me, that slow scan of my body - she could see every lump, bump and dimple, she could smell the calories I’d consumed at lunch, and she immediately knew that I was a girl who was partial to a good meal and great wine, not to mention the occasional beer. I looked at MOB for support, reassurance that I hadn’t been living in some parallel universe where I was a fatty boomba. She looked back at me, sensing my panic, she understood what was going on, and gave me a nod of encouragement. Eventually I replied cautiously… “Good?” now completely unsure if that was the right answer. Well, I was good. Now I feel like shit. Ha.

“Do you plan to lose much weight or perhaps just tone up?”
“I’m not really sure…I guess I’ll tone up a bit.”
“Great well we can give you until July to do what you need to do before we take your measurements. Is that enough time for you?”
“Yep.” Shit.

So, 6 months down the track, I now have 1 month left until July when I need to walk my svelte, toned self back into that boutique for another round of ego battering. Can not wait. The problem is, how the F do I do it. I’m already quite an active person. My week looks a little bit like this. Monday  5:30pm -  freestyle Spin class, Tuesday 6:00pm  - RPM, Wednesday 5:30pm -  Ashtanga Yoga, Thursday 5:30pm – RPM, Friday 5:00pm  - Pump. Add to this, brisk walks or runs with two very lively Staffy’s 7 days a week, rain, hail or shine. There’s even the occasional Saturday morning run or another class thrown in there. At one stage, I was doing double sessions, hitting the gym up at lunch time or walking through the park when the weather permitted. I got tired of that pretty quickly.

Then I stumbled across a story about a woman who had stuck a feeding tube down her nose in order to shed a few unwanted kilos before her big day. OMG. This is pure insanity. It involves the “patients” carrying around a solution in a bag, which delivers fats, protein, and water (no carbs) through the nasogastric tube into the stomach. Patients consume about 800 calories a day, and no actual food ever passes their lips over the 10-day period.

 source: http://shine.yahoo.com/love-sex/brides-8217-extreme-wedding-preparations-nose-tube-diet-173800919.html

A doctor speaking out against this idiotic diet put forward some alternative solutions for a quick weight loss: “Why not a medically induced coma/anesthesia for weight loss?” he wonders. Why not a10 day cocaine binge? Which he suggests would work just as well, and probably be more fun.
So, whilst every bride wants to look amazing on her wedding day, it could be that last chance to show off a hot rig before it is wreaked havoc upon by childbirth or a job in administration, coupled with a stubborn metabolism that shows no signs of ever getting back to those carefree, eat what you want, nothing will happen days.

But guess what? A skeleton in a big, ill-fitting dress is not pretty, sexy or beautiful. Like marriage itself, maintaining a healthy weight is long term, there’s no quick fix, and no cheat sheet that doesn’t come without kidney damage, headaches, dizziness, vitamin deficiencies and dehydration.

Yesterday I had two chocolate biscuits.

The thing is, there’s enough to stress about other than how many calories are in a cup of green tea. The last thing anyone is ever going to think of the bride at her wedding is that she would’ve looked soooo much better carrying a little less junk in the trunk.

Bridal Olympics

The last couple of months of engagement have been blissful as our little life carries on pretty much on track. This is what we wanted, the time to sit back and enjoy just being engaged. Not that there is a lot of ‘sitting back’ going on. As I said, life continues on its own trajectory, and we find ourselves pretty preoccupied with day to day life at the moment. However, there is a sense of looming for me. It’s coming.

As the time ticks by, the milestones are reached and things continued to be metaphorically ticked from the list, it feels like Wedding is building swell, a mega force, and I’m caught in the undertow as it drags me out to sea, quietly and peacefully.

I find myself in quiet moments, at times, absolutely terrified of the magnitude of the task and the occasion ahead. In a few days time, we’ll find ourselves at the 6 month mark. That’s 6 months to go. 6 months is such a short time when converted to wedding hours. And even though I’ve earnt myself the tag of ‘relatively organised bride’, I’m apparently not in the upper echelons of the ‘ultra organised bride’. Which sounds distinctly like a challenge to me. About time I stepped it up a notch.

It’s funny that no matter where you are, or with whom, Wedding is always a popular and familiar topic of conversation. Just today, while at a training course with a grand total of 3 people, I struck common ground with both other participants on the topic of bridesmaids dresses. One lady told me her daughter had recently become engaged, opening up a plethora of conversation topics for the duration of the 3 day course, the other – a bridesmaid herself, caught deep in the midst of (seemingly not unusual) bridesmaid dress angst. At work, my boss is attending a wedding in a few weeks time and is quite close to the bride and her planning process. We have some friends who are getting married just a week before us, so wedding chit chat and the exchange of experiences and feelings to date is fairly prevalent whenever we get the chance to catch up. I have an old colleague that has recently become engaged and is scrambling to organise a wedding by October. She likes to contact me via Facebook to ask me all manner of  wedding planning questions ranging from quite specific to very random. Add to this, the thousands of people we come into contact with over the course of each week, who are already married and relish the opportunity to impart their own wisdom and experience, regardless of their connection to myself or fiancé. So, even if I wanted to escape from the wedding mania, I can’t.

While we’re on the topic, I’ve decided that wedding planning should be a sport in the next Olympics. I’m ready for London if they’re keen. Even better, it should get an Olympics all of its own. The Bridal Olympics. You have to agree, it would be a spectacle filled with fierce competition from brides to be, who are in well and truly under the influence of acquired situational narcissism, battling it out for the best venue, best DJ, best dress, best flowers, best honeymoon, bridal waltz, bonbonierres, bridesmaid shoes, hens night, etc.

Of course, everyone thinks their wedding will be/was the best and that’s completely 100% understandable, that’s how it should be, but I’ve certainly come across some brides who are particularly aggressive and somewhat standoffish at the same time when in the company of another bride to be. I’m sorry but I just don’t get it. There’s plenty of weddings to go around, and the only thing you should be worried about, is that you are totally in love with yours.

I recently asked a friend of mine if she had experienced a similar thing when she was in the bride to be boat over 4 years ago. She said she didn’t really have any immediate friends getting married at the same time as her but that she knew where I was coming from. She said she had felt a similar thing from married woman, who would ask her how the planning was going only to turn their noses up and make disapproving noises and accompanying faces when she replied, not what they did/had, and so, therefore, not the best she could do.

OK, I’m not completely innocent here. I can’t say I haven’t raised an eyebrow or two when I’ve been privy to the details of the impending nuptials of my acquaintances that weren’t 100% to my taste. It’s hard not to judge when you’re so deeply entrenched in orchestrating your own dream day. Of course, tastes and budgets differ and that’s absolutely fine. It’s when someone steps up the plate to question my vision that I start to get a bit irked. Especially when the person in question is a) not a close friend b) very very different c) unaware that they are very very different and persistent in trying to play the game at a higher level than their intelligence and skill will allow. This particular person came to me for advice, somewhat at a loss of where to start, as all BTB’s can understand. At first I felt humbled by her plea for help, that she chose me to come to for advice, she must’ve heard about my ‘relatively organised bride’ ranking, word had spread, I get that. First things first, I told her she had to start with a venue. It was to be the cornerstone for the rest of her planning, especially since this particular case was dealing with a tight timeframe. I was sceptical she would find one in such a short time but she replied almost straight away. “Found one!” Hmm, this instantly aroused my suspicions. Booking a venue in Perth 5 months out? Obvs onto a winner.

As the conversation continued, she asked if I would share a sort of checklist with her, to make sure she had covered off “all the main things” in her initial jottings down/ripped out to do list from her ‘Cosmo Bride’. Of course, I obliged, more than happy to share my tailor made spreadsheet with her. I questioned leaving all of the figures in there, what does it matter if someone else knows my budget? But decided to take out the cost of a few big ticket items, including my dress. Luckily. Her response came moments later… “You’re paying over 4K for a photographer??????” Oh dear. Deary, deary me. Oh dear. Thank god I took the price of the dress out. You see, I wasn’t dealing with a knowledgeable bride to be and I don’t know her well enough to have a category for her but I soon realised that if we were in the Bridal Olympics, she would be in the Special Bridal Olympics. A completely different event altogether, and it would be completely unfair for me to compete with her. Of course I would win, but I soon realised weren’t on a level playing field.

This was despite her best efforts to try to get me to later send her some pics of my bridesmaids dresses so she could “get some ideas. Don’t worry I’m not going to copy them.” Unfortunately, right at that moment, our server crashed and I was unable to send her the entire blueprint and game plan for our wedding for her “not to copy”.

She continued on over the subsequent days and weeks with more questions as to the progress of my planning and asked if I was ‘stressed’ amongst other things. I replied in earnest, telling her that I was loving the process and that I had recently had a marvellous realisation that I was falling in love with fiancé all over again, caught up only in the fact that soon I would be standing side by side with the man I love, looking into his eyes, and pledging a lifelong commitment. And that honestly underpins every decision I make for wedding from this point forth. I play our selected bridal waltz song every now and then, and it sends me crazy with excitement. I can now see the day clearly, how it will be and, most importantly, my fiancé will become my husband. She assured me she agreed and felt EXACTLY the same, that when she thought about her fiancé, she felt all “mushy”. Hmmm, mushy. Not exactly the words I would use (ever) but that’s it. That’s the essence of the whole thing. No matter what you’re budget, you’re timing, or how badly you’ve been ripped off by your photographer, the thing that all of us have in common is the feeling of excitement at beginning the next chapter with your favourite person. In the meantime, it’s game on bitches.

 

Red, i see red, i see red, i see red, i see red.

Find a heart that will love you at your worst, and arms that will hold you at your weakest. I think I have found that heart and it’s definitely got two of those arms attached. I feel extremely lucky and blessed. I can whole heartedly say that now that Engagey and Wedding are on the scene, I have magically fallen in love with Fiance all over again. Perhaps it’s being surrounded by cake and flowers all the time that does it. Who knows. But as Wedding hurtles toward us at break neck speed, it pays to take some time out to reflect on the relationship, what it means now and what we are in for post wedding.

More and more these days we are faced with friends and loved ones in the midst of relationship dramas. Add to this the seemingly never ending stories of friends of friends and complete strangers alike, going through whirlwind marriage break ups to rival even that of Kim Kardashian, you have to wonder where and why it all goes wrong.

I don’t know if I’m just ultra sensitive to it given my current state of wedding mania but it seems to be nearly weekly that I’m hearing of a called off engagement, a quickie divorce, or simply the breakdown of a long term relationship. Although I’m guessing it never ‘simply’ at all.

Did these girls go through the same thing I’m going through? Experiencing overwhelming feelings of love for their partner combined with an insatiable desire to make them happy forever? 

Lord knows no relationship is easy. Times get tough and arguments get had. That’s just a given when two people share their life, bed, breakfast etc.  If we were all the same, that life would be insanely boring. And I for one am an absolute stickler for a good argument. I love it. I find one of Fiances most frustrating traits is his inability and therefore resolute refusal to indulge me one single out and out screaming match. It drives me crazy. The moment he senses an difficult moment is brewing, he becomes a clam. I become a fierce dragon and he becomes a clam. A smart clam that knows anything he says will be twisted and manipulated and misconstrued just to maximise the ferocity and duration of precious argument time. Well I have news for you my molluscular companion, you’re friend Ronan Keating is wrong this time. You don’t say it best when you say nothing at all, at all. You say it worst when you say nothing at all. Your silence is fuel to the fire. But still, I have to pull out all the stops and come out with some outrageous, embellished statements in order to extract any kind of response from him. But usually it’s just silence.  “JUST FIGHT WITH ME GODDAMMIT!!” I am going to make chowder out of you.

I have sneaky strategy, based on building the pressure slowly. I guess it’s a bit like fishing. Start with a little bit of bait. No bites. More bait. No bites. Maybe throw some fishy burley in to encourage a bit more action. Hmmmm. Be patient, he will bite eventually. Hide the hook so he won’t see it coming, frame the argument in such a way that he will no longer be able to maintain his stubborn silence. Because we all know that silence does not constitute any kind of defence. Argue your innocence. It’s the only way through this. You know what? Fuck it, I hate fishing, don’t have the patience for it. I’m going in for the kill, time to ramp this baby up. So the pressure builds in the form of ridiculous, conniving remarks now crafted with one goal in mind. Bang. I’ve broken him down. He finally responds. But it’s always in this preposterous, high pitched whingey voice and the words tumble out of his mouth so fast that the punctuation and the oxygen is left behind. Words spilling over, drowning me in outlandish decibels. “OMG – shut up!” Fiance’s second most annoying trait. But it is effective. Mission accomplished. I do not wish to pursue the argument any further for two reasons;  a) I’ve already won b) the noise and the speed of said noise is so unbelievably irritating, I’d actually prefer the clam treatment. Sometimes it’s actually hard to keep a straight face after the squeaky speedy argumentative fiancé appears.

Some other soccer wags and I have discussed perhaps introducing a card system into the house, much like those used by the referee during a match to warn and discipline offending players.  After years of careful observation, it seems that once they’ve fouled on the pitch and aroused the attention of the ref, they undergo this amazing transformation into the nicest guy in the world, instantly showering the opposing, downtrodden player with affection in the form of hugs, back pats and hand shakes. “Sorry mate, sorry, I’m sorry – you right? Didn’t mean to hurt you mate. Come here and give us a hug. You right? You’re alright. See ref, he’s fine. I didn’t do anything wrong ref. Let me explain to you what happened.” The biggest production ensues to try to convince the ref they didn’t mean it, it was an accident. It usually doesn’t work and the ref flashes his yellow card in their face, regardless of their Oscar worthy performance,  at which point they skulk off muttering obscenities under their breath.  Yellow means you have been naughty and if you do it again you can’t play anymore. Two yellows equals a red. Red is bad. There is no coming back from a red. Red equals sin bin to go and think about what you’ve done. Sometimes, if you’re really naughty, you can get a red straight away with no yellow warnings.

source

So, as long suffering wags, I could see how this method could be more effective than my current argument inducing strategy. You’ve pissed me off so you get a yellow. Cue pleading and begging for forgiveness (as per above) . Yellow cards trumps a clam. Or if it’s really bad, no argument, red card, get out of my face. Or maybe just get out.  Which leads me to believe that perhaps a few red cards have been involved in all these break ups lately. Whether they are the result of a single act or the culmination of several yellow card warnings.

Every relationship needs a few yellow cards now and then, but repeat offences are not tolerated. Anyway, the yellows in our house are largely infrequent and mostly for made up offences. The moral of the ramblings today is to maintain an acute awareness of where you are both at, all of the time. You have to keep checking in and checking up on the health of your mojo. It's so precious. Ignoring it will make it go away. People  change and people grow, keep rediscovering each other and grow  together. Be conscious that it is probably not a fairy tale. It’s not meant to be. It’s having a hand to hold  tightly along the journey, a hand that is attached to the arm that will hold you at your weakest which is powered by that heart. The heart that will love you at your worst.

with a bit of a mind flip, you're into the time slip...

Hi. This is awkward. It’s been a while. It’s not that you haven’t been in my thoughts. You have been. Every day. Ok, that’s a lie, maybe every second day. If not once a week. God it’s been forever hasn’t it? I feel like such a bad blogger. Like I’ve abandoned you. Like I’ve abandoned myself. Because, at the end of the day, this really is nothing more than a self indulgent monologue. So really, that’s a good thing. Like I haven’t needed to have a chat to myself. Pah, as if. I talk to myself all the time. I have the BEST chats with myself. Until I get annoying. And then it’s back to awkward, nothing more awkward than the moment you realise you’ve pissed yourself off, nowhere to hide from that.

OK truth be told, I’ve got another excuse. I’ve been growing my nails, which makes typing a little difficult, which in turn makes me thoroughly question my need to blog. So please excuse any typos from this point forward. Nails.

I can tell you that Wedding is progressing in leaps and bounds. I’m actually growing weary of people asking me how the wedding plans are going as I can’t remember the last time I laid an actual finger on the wedding plan. Other than that time I glanced at my budget with overwhelming confidence that it was completely and utterly under control. Eek. I hate money. Actually no, that’s ridiculous. I love money, but when it’s in spreadsheet form showing money spent against money owed, and one amount is disproportionately higher, money gets a bit tedious. When it comes to wedding, I like to say money schmoney. Pfft. Money? Money schmoney.

It’s not like there is an actual blue print plan of wedding. It’s not like a house plan. I like to think of it as a masterpiece in progress. It constantly evolves and transforms itself at every turn/day/mood. It’s always lovely though. It reminds me of a recent episode of ‘Grand Designs’ in which the family was building this sustainable, crazy, amazing house based on the design that lived only in the patriarchs head. The timeframe wasn’t locked in, nor the budget. It was just this thing that they all had to have, the family completely got it, completely trusted in dads vision and that, eventually, he would create something so unbelievable. So, after 5 years they had a remarkable home kind of nearly on the way to being finished and a bit over budget. Meh. Budget smudget.

It’s been nice to have this time to sit back and bask in our betrothal. It’s the whole reason why we chose not to rush the nuptials - to avoid feeling unnecessary stress or pressure. I mean I don’t begin to profess that this process is without its stress, but it’s necessary stress. They are inherently different. But I’m totally in a time slip.

I’m subscribed to a few wedding blogs, one of which in particular is very, very good and therefore tends to become a sort of black hole in the universe for me. I can lose hours on this site. I’ve also taken to getting overly excited by incidentals. And I mean breathless with excitement. Giddy almost. It’s pathetic. But it’s so fun. My Achilles heel at the moment would have to be flower girls. OMG THEY ARE SO CUTE. One day I spent nearly two hours beside myself with excitement copy and pasting random flower girls and emailing them to MOB one at a time. A few days later it was flowers. Poor MOB. I get excited.

The day I found potential bridesmaids dresses? I very nearly wee’d in my pants. I sat in my chair at work almost convulsing with excitement. It can get lonely though. It’s not really a feeling that can be translated to other non-obsessed-by-anything-wedding types. They’ll just kind of glance at it and go “Meh – yeah it’s nice”. “Nice. Nice?” seriously. “Nice? It’s amaaaaaazing, it’s the most gorgeous little page boy outfit/ seating plan/invitation I have EVER seen.” Omg, invitations!? How can one little white piece of card with dove grey writing on it, be so god damn adorable? Ridiculous but its where I’m at, alone.  Funny, it has taken me a while to realise how little this means to everyone else who’s not me. It is a very solo project, but that’s ok. I still love it.

I’m only slightly concerned that I have actually lost track of time and keep telling people its 9 months when it’s actually 8. Hopefully I’ll catch up as the day gets closer. I’ll make up the time somehow. Hopefully not in my dreams. The ones where its 4:30pm on our wedding day and we’re not at our ceremony yet and we’ve just realised the photographer hasn’t turned up. No.

To counteract the loss of months, I’ve actually put myself on a new timeline. Wedding will be signed and sealed by September, to allow for other seemingly endless social engagements and activities to overtake that month and the next. So I’ve effectively discounted them from the timeline. They’re gone. So I think I also need to adjust how many hours are left and, in turn, the name of this blog. I’ll have to get around to that later. But there are so many other FUN things to do, like listen to potential ceremony songs over and over again. Seriously, I have three candidates, and I can not split them. Listening to them more, just makes me love them more, and I get a bit teary at times, which can draw some curious attention. Especially when I’m teary in the car on the way to work. People must think I really hate my job to be crying on the way to work. No, no, no, they clearly don’t know me - I usually do that on the way home. 

Another favourite past time of mine currently while I’m afforded such luxury, is honeymoon planning. Now THAT is fun. Dreaming of exotic locations where we have nothing to do except be Mr and Mrs, but that’s a whole new story. I promise I won’t leave it so long this time.

love hurts

Sometimes you need to find the time to just breathe. I’ve found some time today to visit the beach to do some blogging and some breathing, alone yet surrounded by eerily calm activity. It’s early. Early birds seem to be calm, happy people. Maybe it’s because they are still half asleep. I’ve been drawn to the coast today, like an ant drawn to Jackson and Mika’s food bowl. It’s forecast to be 41 degrees today and it’s overcast and humid. I’ve scurried here like an ant with lots of other ants. But the difference is, I’m a waterproof ant.

We're all very ant like at times in our lives. Rushing around seemingly without purpose and without any sense of rationality, always so busy. You never see an ant just chilling out do you? Kicking back, putting his little ant feet up? Unless it’s a queen ant. They get plenty of time to lie about, and that’s probably why they live 2.5 times longer than your regular worker ant. Stress = short life span. So sometimes it’s nice to just breathe, and blog, at the beach.
So, big news. I've had a wedding breakthrough. The dress. Has arrived. In my life. After a long, arduous search, I have found THE dress. Or maybe she found me. It has been a search fraught with the full gamut of emotions and was nothing like how I thought it would be.

The unofficial search began about a day after Fiancé and I became engaged, followed by a couple more serious shopping trips, which although amazing and fun, served only to further complicate and cloud the concept in my head. I purposely left a visit to this particular boutique until other options were exhausted knowing it was going to test the top end of my budget.

The process started with an interview and a full disclosure of how much I was willing to spend before I was even allowed to think about trying anything on. It came complete with a woman who spoke only in adjectives. I'm just beginning to feel like I can speak and write again with vigour after seeing this woman on three separate occasions. She left me drained. I had no adjectives. She had stolen them all from me in some bizarre act of adjective osmosis.

She explained that she would begin by trying on some ‘amazing’ shapes on me so that my body could speak to her. My body would speak to her and she would translate what it said to the dresses and we would have a solution. She was the dress whisperer. Seemed perfectly simple to me, body obliging. Hopefully Jenny could keep her mouth shut in all of this.

A brief was given via my wedding scrapbook. A visual feast of tulle and satin moulded into 'amazing shapes'. Unfortunately, the adjective stealing dress whisperer informed me that the cupboard was essentially void of anything vaguely my concept. They would have to design something specifically for me. She made it sound like they had always intended to create a gown just like the one I was describing, but I know better. I had inspired her. I was her muse.
 
Just now as I sit here at the beach, breathing and trying to find some peace on the grass under the shade of an old, straggly tree surrounded by no one, a thin lady has sought me out, sitting too close for my comfort talking to the voices in her head. She edges closer and closer to me.

The conversation continues. I guess we all have our own internal commentary but sometimes it makes its way to the outside. Who am I to judge? I sit here documenting my every thought and go on to publish it. The only difference is, mine are consciously shared with an audience. I believe this woman’s public commentary is largely involuntary and is shared with an imaginary audience. I wonder if she was once perfectly sane and then started planning a wedding and lost her mind.
More than likely.

So, as I was saying, I would have to wait for my concept to be designed before I could try it on. So I waited. Patiently.

Nearly a month later, I was back. And this time I was able to try on another amazing shape which very closely resembled the image that had previously existed only in my mind. However, they had been unable to completely finish it in time for my appointment; the bodice was entirely full of pins. I would have to use my imagination and do my best at looking amazing without being stabbed by one of the 235 pins. I succeeded with the first. I didn’t need much imagination, even in its unfinished form, it was clear that this dress was really speaking my language, the translation had obviously been clear. The dress whisperer had woven her adjective laden magic. I was falling in love all over again.

They say that love hurts. Love scars, love wounds and mars. And my dress love was going to hurt me beyond the pins that had stabbed me deep into the upper abdomen during that first fitting. I always like the most expensive things. I don’t mean too, it always just seems to turn out like that. It’s not fair. I very rarely go for it though, usually settling for something more with a more realistic price tag, achieving the same objective. I’d have to do some serious soul searching and book cooking before I could commit to the dress whisperer.

I sought advice from people who had been in the same situation and those who hadn’t. Close friends and family, and complete strangers. The response across the board was largely favourable and I started to feel less sick in the stomach. Fiancé gave me his support, figuring that the acceptance of Dress would give him long term bargaining power to procure things he wanted up to the same value. But I was sleepless and stressed and ant like.  An angry, sad, excited, little ant.

As I said, I’d normally continue looking for something more conservatively priced, something less nice which would do the job. But this was my wedding dress we’re talking about. It’s not something you can go back and settle for. Well some can. Not me. Now, after some time has passed I can justify it to you in three or four different ways. My coping mechanisms have kicked in and I’m able to argue strongly in favour of Dress.

Of course, I asked adjective lady what the dress was called before committing to the purchase. She revealed that Dress was so new; she was yet to be named. Perfect. This was music to my ears. Perhaps they would let me name her. She was designed for me after all. I explained that I would purchase Dress if they named her after me. She chortled at the suggestion. My name is obviously not ridiculous enough to name a wedding dress after. I’m sure if my name was Fililaylia they would be more than obliging. 

I had returned to the store 2 days later to see Dress in a more finished form before she flew to Sydney. I still loved her. Dress whisperer drowned me in adjectives, “the bow will be just a little bit more…adorable, gorgeous, charming, lovely, beautiful, delicious, cute, amazing, stunning, pretty, striking, perfect, glamorous, elegant etc etc.”

It was her. I’d found her. I don’t get to see her again until July, when my measurements will be taken. This date was determined by the dress whisperer asking me how long I would need to get skinny. She didn’t say it like that but that’s what she meant. “How are you feeling?” she queried. I looked at my mum for the answer. The truth is, I had been feeling pretty good, until then. She assured me she meant nothing by it but simply that it’s common for brides to go on some crazy diet or new exercise plan and end up having to pay for extra alterations accordingly.  July was the latest I could go without effecting the timeline too badly. Jenny will be upset. She really has to go this time. At least for 6 months. So it seems no wonder that stress sets in. If I don’t maintain my weight from July – November, I’ll be looking at extra alts and extra $$’s. But it’s not actually as bad as it sounds, we’re talking in excess of 3cms, and I have until July to get where I need to be, and stay there. Piece of cake. Gluten, fat, sugar and carb free cake.

The Bride Stripped Bare

I should really turn this into a vide blog, or at least carry around one of those little voice recorder things with me. I feel like I’m doing all of you such a disservice by simply relying on my memory and allowing my subconscious and my conscience to edit out the bits that aren’t so amazing. Because anyone who is here or has been here knows it’s not always fun. People piss you off. Sometimes a little bit and sometimes a lot. The degree of which varies depending on the subject and, more importantly, depending on the person and their relative proximity to the event and to your life.

Now, I make no apology for being an over analysing drama queen, it helped me to achieve remarkable results in English Literature at school and would have perhaps made me a very good lawyer in a previous life. In fact, it would probably have made me a very good one in this life also, had I not grown bored after that first year law/finance. I remember when I made that decision to tottle off and study law after my first 2 years studying Commerce at another institution. I was walking down the stairs to my car after a particularly uninteresting something and it hit me. I think I called my mum straight away to tell her the news. “I’m going to study law mum.” To which I received the standard mum reply – “fabulous,as long as it makes you happy.” Well, sorry mum, turns out it didn’t make me very happy at all. Although it would have perhaps made me very rich eventually – at the time it made me very bored and fearful that if I continued, I could count on that being a characteristic of my life along with depression, cynicism and a great deal of stress. That and I couldn’t decide on a specialist area – Commercial Law? Too boring. Family Law? Too sad. Criminal law? Too psycho. I think the ones that continue on to finish their entire law degree, which takes about 15 years to complete in full, with the same mindset as me without any real niche as such end up being those personal injury lawyers that you see advertised on those really bad ads on TV and on the back of the yellow pages.

Anyway, I digress (not like me), but my point is that there is so much going on the in wedding sub plot that is not always visible or acknowledged in the daily rehearsal. It’s the other characters, some of which may not fully understand their role or know the best way to play it. The ones that haven’t rehearsed before or the ones who forget their lines. Sometimes they want a bigger part or more lines. And they all have their own unique story to tell.

But imagine if a movie went into great detail to develop every character and went to great lengths to incorporate each characters story and they all had the same amount of lines to speak. How would you tell who the main characters were? And how would the movie have any meaning at all? At the same time, it wouldn’t be a very interesting movie if you heard from no one but the protagonists.

So not only are you playing the main role as bride and groom in this amazing wedding story, but we also find ourselves challenged with the role of writer and director, confronted with so many sub plots and managing them in the best way we know how. All the while, the undercurrent of wedding is to remain fun and exciting. This is no mean feat when there are so many feelings, sentiments, emotions out of your control that have come to be through miscellaneous unrelated events.

If I can reflect back to the start of this journey, I’m overcome with emotion. The people we’ve met along the way, the conversations we’ve had, the decisions we’ve made – might seem so simple, but has given me deep insight into so much more. I’ve learnt things about myself but more importantly, other people. It’s all about the people, some strangers and some so very close to me. Perceptions, on both sides perhaps, challenged in such a confronting way.

I’ve found allies and support in the most unexpected places and it’s a beautiful thing. Wedding has already given me so much. So many special moments and the provoking of many thoughts. I love every up and I love every down. The downs are where you find the best lessons and the most growth. All of this, AND the best is yet to come!

Down to business...

It’s been a while since my last post. I have no excuse other than I haven’t quite felt coherent enough to put something together. That, and I haven’t had one particular topic to share with you. Wedding is still very much almost always front of mind, but sometimes other life things get in the way. Not only are we (me) planning a wedding, we are also renovating our villa in preparation for sale later this year, and I’m in the midst of starting a little side venture marketing business. (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pure-MPRD/254134344649795 for those who are interested!)

The business is much like the wedding at the moment – a work in progress that takes up a lot of my time and energy. In fact, at this very point in time wedding could even regard business as some sort of nemesis. They could be best friends in some other life, but for now, they are very much competing for my attention and I can’t choose a favourite. I imagine that it is similar to having children and being asked which one you love more. You see, I love different things about each of them. In some respects they are polar opposites but they also share some fundamental characteristics. Most importantly, they are both teaching me things.

I have wondered on occasion if I could have perhaps planned wedding in much the same fashion as business. And on occasion, I have mused that perhaps I have in many ways. There has been a loose plan for both, which in time will be tightened up as we work towards some strategic objectives for both business and wedding.

It is a well know business myth that 90% of businesses fail within their first year. More often than not, this failure can be attributed to bankruptcy and/or bad planning. I also wonder if the same principles apply and if badly planned (or unplanned) weddings also fail within their first year. Not a risk I’m willing (or able apparently) to take.

So it’s time to get serious.

Truth be told, I’m actually starting to feel a little anxious. Time is ticking. Driving home from the beach a couple of days ago, it suddenly smacked me upside the head. In exactly 11 months and 3 hours time, I would be walking down the aisle. 11 months. Not a long time in wedding hours. Shit. God. Shit. Refer to this post for a refresher on wedding time: http://www.the12408hourwedding.blogspot.com/2011/11/ceeeeleebrant-good-times-come-on.html

People tell me I shouldn’t be worried, that I have heaps of time and that I appear to be stupidly organised.

Hearing about other disorganised wedding plans puts me at ease somewhat, but it’s short lived when I realise these people are from another planet. I refer to a colleague of mine who is to be married in early March. She is yet to book a florist, spent the week before Christmas buying wedding shoes. She is also hassling my baker extraordinaire FILTB to make her a wedding cake, choosing to place her first call to him in the chaotic last days before Christmas. The thing is, she seems fine. Not a sign or symptom of panic in the girl whatsoever. I do my very best to avoid wedding talk with her as a) I’m not interested, but b) I get stressed FOR her.

As I mentioned though, we’re not very alike. She bubbled over with excitement today, exclaiming how excited she was that she had found her wedding ring in the Boxing Day sales and it was a real bargain. I don’t think Tiffany’s has a Boxing Day sale.

So compared with this girl, I look like the mother Theresa of wedding planning. My wedding will love me forever and her wedding will want to change its name and runaway as soon as it’s old enough. It may never forgive her.

But I still have a lot to do. Even more so since I have reclaimed control over the only 2 things that Fiancé was in charge of. Honeymoon and suits are now back on my list. Leaving him to organise…well...nothing. Apparently his proposal was his one and only contribution to this process. I guess that deserves some credit.

Fiance occassionally throws around names like control freak, but his plans so far for organising his suit etc, well, there aren't any. His idea was just to let the guys wear whatever they want. So, thats a no. Control freak or not. I know he just says things like that so I will take over, but it works. Little shit. The honeymoon we can work on together, but after a brief meeting with Fiance’s Swiss uncle over Christmas which went something like this “Oh when you come to Switzerland for your honeymoon, WE can go here and WE can go there and then WE’LL go to this place and watch some soccer match and then I can take you here etc etc”. Luckily, at the time, he was speaking in Swiss and Fiance only translated for me later, at which point I knew for sure how crucial my involvement in the honeymoon planning process will be.

So there’s absolutely no more coasting along. It’s business time. Oops no - I mean its wedding time? It’s wedding business time. Look wedding and business are just going to have to learn to get along. They are, after all, almost in the same stage of their respective planning processes. Both have a structure, key personnel and their relevant experience defined, a rough description of the product/service, we have a vague idea of both current market position and the potential for growth and the objectives for each in the short and long term, funds have been sought and allocated. We have a few decisions left to make. Pesky, little decisions.  SO many decisions! And no dress.

It’s like the calm before the storm. But like the storm we had here in Perth last night. The one that I had no idea was coming. The one that woke me in the middle of night and kept me awake while it lashed its wind, lightning, hail and rain around the place. So I wonder when I will have a complete melt down. Hopefully soon so I can tick it off the list and move on. Planning for the unplanned, planning for amazing and planning not to fail. What could possibly go wrong?