Here comes the bride, 40 inches wide...

So in around 30 weeks time I will be facing one of the biggest challenges of my life so far. If it’s going to end up happy ever after, it will take commitment and sacrifices on my part. Sure, people can offer support and encouragement from the sidelines but at the end of the day it’s down to me to make it work. It’s a scary thought but it will be worth it.

I am, of course, talking about being stared at and photographed in my wedding dress. Oh you thought I meant entering the holy state of matrimony and abiding by all the vows I’m going to make? Nah – compared to getting me looking even vaguely attractive on the big day, the actual marriage will be wee buns; in fact I am very much looking forward to being Mrs Yawksha Boy! It’s the day itself I fear…

I was looking through some old family photos last night and one thing struck me… I am possibly the least photogenic person, like, ever. Ok maybe not when I was a cute wee 3 year old with pigtails, but since I was a bit older all the photos of me are just awful! And what didn’t help? Yawksha Boy not only agreeing to this but then adding “but it’s only because you look like a boy in them…”. Thanks, darling one, that makes me feel a whole lot better. Although it was useful in that I now know not to surprise him with a bowl cut on our wedding day. You see the sacrifices I make?

Anyways, the whole point is that I am a bit weird-looking and also very incredibly chunky (not helped much by my recent post-lent-celebratory alcohol consumption and Easter sweeties!). I can’t do much about the weird-looking side of things but that’s what we’re paying a make-up artist for (yuck, make-up… hate the stuff). However the chunky thing I can try.

I’ve written before (I think – or was that just in my head?) about how I lost over 5 stone doing Weight Watchers and then lost all my motivation and have since put about 2 stone back on again. Well, I’m still not going back to the classes but yesterday I started doing their Core Plan again from my old books to try and turn this thing around. Even if I lost 1lb per week for 30 weeks, that’s only the 2 stone I’ve gained back gone, so I need to get my ass in gear. I need to be planning my meals, making healthy choices and resisting all the bad treats (except alcohol – a girl’s gotta live!). I also, when we’ve finished moving all our belongings and furniture about 20 metres across the road, need to get back to the gym before what little muscle tone I have disappears on me again.

But what doesn’t help? People trying to help. I think once upon a time I asked for Yawksha Boy’s assistance in trying to keep me on the dieting straight and narrow and I’m sure at the time I meant it, but ever since he and my mother have started trying to help me by shouting at me when I want something unhealthy and banning me from certain things, the rebel in me has been all, like, “Woah, just who do you think you are? I’m a grown woman and I’ll have what I damn well please!”

But the thing is, I know now that I don’t react well to this sort of pressure. I joined Weight Watchers and started trying to lose weight before I was even engaged, so there was no pressure on me to slim down for a wedding. And since Yawksha Boy and my mother had seen my harebrained schemes to lose weight fail a million times before, they were watching me mainly with interest rather than judging me to start with. That worked for me – no pressure, no timescales, just a gentle meander down the path of weight loss, getting gradually healthier as I went about my daily business. I even enjoyed the challenge at times. But whenever everyone is all, “no you can’t have that” or “you shouldn’t be eating that” or “ah now don’t be bold”, where’s the fun? Surely it’s up to me what I eat or don’t eat and how quickly or slowly I want to lose weight? Enuff wit da pressure peeps! Let me just do my thing. By all means commiserate with me if I gain weight or cheer for me when I lose it, but let it just be my own little thing, ‘kay?

Anyway that was a bit of a tangent from my original topic of the wedding day photos and people staring at me. I am genuinely bricking it about that side of thing. Everyone in my family keeps saying they can’t wait for the wedding and it’ll be brilliant, etc. Like, eek! There’s that pressure again. I really don’t want to turn up looking like your stereotypical plus size bride, all pink, flushed-looking, chubby cheeks, fat arms squeezed really tight by sleeves that are too narrow and the dress straining across a big sticky-out belly. There’s only so much that control underwear can hold in! I know that even if I do lose some weight (or even a good bit of weight) before the big day, I’ll still be a plus size bride, but there are variations on a theme and all I really want is for people to look at me or the photos of the day and think “nice dress!” or “good hair!” and for my size not to even occur to them. Some chance but there’s there dream anyway.

So, today for breakfast I had porridge (that exploded all over the office microwave – oops) and for lunch I had a packet of microwave brown rice – the thrills! No sauce, no accompaniment, just plain ol’ rice. For dessert I may have some tinned peach slices. Well, it may not be exciting but if I can walk down the aisle and just concentrate on marrying the gorgeous man (hopefully!) waiting for me at the end of it rather than worrying how big my bum looks to the congregation, it will all be worth it. Must remember that next time Asda have a sale on Hagen-Daaz!