MppffffmeeOWWWW

That, dear Reader, is the noise of a cat escaping from a bag.

I have news; glad tidings, in fact. I am affianced, betrothed, intended.

This startling turn of affairs occurred at the weekend in Devon but I had a couple of friends who read my blog that I had to tell in person. That is now done – just one of my best friends to tell (scheduled for Thursday).

In a fit of Victoriana, I almost fainted when bf asked me to marry him. I went so white, he held on to me as he thought I was going to pass out! I then (romantically) sputtered:

“WHAT?”
“Yes!”
“WHAT?”

Then after 15 mins, I made him propose all over again, just to be sure. He did say he'd text it to me so I could check it as I wished - but nothing so far.

I spent the weekend stupefied, stunned, shocked. He had (wisely) not chosen a ring but the very first jewellers we visited on Wednesday (a funny little place that clearly still thinks it’s the 1920s) had – not what I’d thought of , but nonetheless the perfect ring for us. (Except for the price maybe! Bf nobly didn’t wince and indeed pressed me to have it over a much cheaper one that I also liked (not as much admittedly) and would have been quite happy with.) It is an antique Art Deco ring with a square sapphire of quite incredible blue, surrounded by extremely sparkly diamonds. And I didn’t think I cared for diamonds particularly! I care for these, very much!

I had stopped imagining this day, it hurt too much to think it would never come. But when I did, I imagined that I would feel more secure but not that it would make me feel so loved-up, so determined to cherish what we have and indeed cherish him. I will be an Aged Bride as we think it will be October/November 2012 when we actually marry but I will manage this (and not with Botox. Although....)

I know you will understand, dear Reader, that I am glad that he didn’t propose at my slimmest (although not glad that I have to get to that weight and indeed get slimmer than slimmest) as I would have linked those two things inextricably and used it as a stick to beat myself. Now, I have to – at my geriatric snail’s pace – get to a size 12-14 I think to be happy in a wedding dress. And I have to get there by next year and keep it there for the following year. Just as well SoD granted me a 2lb loss this week (call it an engagement present!) 3lbs if you count it from Monday when I’d put on a lb after the weekend. It’s very confusing. Still, I think it’s a grand total of 4lbs this month which is distinctly not stellar. I’m going to need this long engagement just to get into a dress without looking like the flipping marquee.

But this weekend is about Naughty R’s wedding. In traditional female wedding guest fashion I have:
· Outfit that feels slightly too tight
· Shoes that are too high for comfort (or, er, walking or standing)
· Something borrowed (thanks Beth!)

And my shiny new (to me) engagement ring to admire in the sunshine (hoping for sunshine! And not just for me I hasten to add)

My jacket has cap sleeves. WHO ever thought that cap sleeves would flatter anyone? Except Michelle Obama – and look how much media coverage she got simply out of being able to look good in cap sleeves. The jacket also has a peplum thing though which is good. I would say that hopefully people will look at my arse not my bingo wings except I don’t hope that at all. I’m sure all eyes will be on the bride and I’ll be able to sneak my bingo wings past all scrutiny, largely (ho ho) un-noticed.

Got to dash, mwah, mwah.