I managed to fit into the bridesmaid's dress, finally
IT'S EVERY woman's nightmare - not fitting into That Dress for That Special Occasion. But to be fair I only had myself to blame.
Two weeks guzzling cheap French wine and eating baguettes and fromage by the lorry load wasn't exactly the Dukan Diet I was supposed to be following for The Little Sister's wedding.
By the second week of the holiday Himself felt the need to intervene which shows how bad the situation was.
Like most men, Himself NEVER mentions my weight or comments on what I eat. He knows he'd be dead if he did!
'Eh are you quite sure the Bridesmaid's dress is going to fit you?' he inquired tentatively as he watched me stuff another hunk of bread into my mouth. 'No!' I replied defiantly, ' but sure might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,' I added cheerfully.
Then I began to panic. We got home from holidays on the Tuesday night. The Sister's wedding was on the Friday. If the dress didn't fit I was screwed. Not only that but the sister would kill me. 'Right. If you see me eating any more bread, cheese or chocolate fondants you're to say, 'Mum do you really want to be a fat bridesmaid' I told the children who delighted in being given permission to call me fat.
They took to their task with great gusto, calling me 'Fat' at every available opportunity. I'd start off the day really well and the best of intentions with yoghurt and fruit but by 11 am I was hiding in the mobile shoveling a croissant down my neck.
The journey home was somber as I contemplated the thoughts of trying to beat myself into a dress that I knew wasn't going to fit. Four bags of dirty washing were dumped in the hall as I ran down to the bedroom and locked the door.
Long story short - the dress didn't fit! I battled for ten minutes but one and a half inches of zip remained open and refused to budge. The Sister texted, ' how's the dress?' I texted back, 'grand. It will be grand on the day. Just needs a bit of tweaking.'
The next morning I was up at the local supermarket by 9 am purchasing every Weight Watchers product they stocked. At the checkout, Gillian the sales assistant, shrieked, "What are you doing buying Weight Watchers?" much to all the other shoppers amusement. Mortification.
I explained it was my sister's wedding in 48 hours and the dress wouldn't fit. "Bit late to be buying weight watchers now," she sniffed unsympathetically. I decided to come clean with The Sister who suggested a magic knickers. 'I've done that. Still doesn't fit.' My father suggested I stay in a sauna for a few hours and my mother in law told me just not to eat for two days. A helpful family.
At the rehearsal dinner, my sister whispered there was a summer salad on the menu. She looked amazing having managed to lose a stone by eating no carbs for two months and running 5 km a day. I'd managed to gain almost as much as she lost by eating nothing but carbs and sitting on my arse all day.
I stubbornly opted for the fish and chips instead of summer salad and vowed not to breathe for the entire next day.
The upshot was, they managed to get me into the dress…….just about but there were a few times throughout the day when I thought I might need CPR! In all the photos the bride looked stunning while the bridesmaid kept trying to stand sideways and hold the bouquet in front of her gut.
By midnight I could bare it no more. I changed into a pair of jeans and a teeshirt and went back downstairs to demolish a few bacon butties guilt free.
Someone needs to take me in hand!