SoD fearing

It was with even more trepidation that I stepped on the Scales of Doom today. Our little honeymoon period is clearly over – I apparently lost zilch this week. I did my usual dance on and off the scales – at which point it got a bit pissy and threatened me with 0.5lb on which instantly forced me into meek compliance. Pah.

I was scared that our next brief encounter would end thus. I’ve done precious little exercise this week (one walk in in fit flops (and another today but post WI) and one weights session), as pimping my ring around for admiration has meant I haven’t been able to cycle in. My eating has been pretty exemplary, but that clearly was not enough to move SoD into compassion and lower figures. I fear it’s going to be a long and bitter trawl towards a (UK) size 12-14 wedding dress, marked by frustration and angst and probably tears. But it won’t be short on determination and sheer bloody mindedness.

I realised the other day with a sudden wave of horror that I’ve picked my two slimmest friends as bridesmaids. All my friends are slim but these two are wafer-thin – or waif-er-thin, if you will. Shows I did it out of love but it does mean that I have to – HAVE TO – feel good about myself when I walk down that aisle. Either that or force feed them in advance. Or maybe both! Either way, one is a size 8-10 and the other a 6-8 so I’m utterly doomed to be the ‘fat one’ – plus ça change, sigh!

Bridesmaid R (or ‘Maid’ as the bridal press coyly refer to them) is one of those ethereal, slender, willowy blondes that looks like someone from the 1930s (she rocks a pair of Katherine Hepburn trousers). She’s possibly even paler than me – one of those very English blondes with very fair skin and dark blonde hair to go with enormous green eyes. Bridesmaid C is a razor slim, leggy girl with dark curls and exotic colouring who’s fashion-edgy-chic (more of a skinny jean girl than Katherine H). If I can manage to be less of a heifer, we’ll certainly be a striking trio – blonde, redhead, brunette! Again, a co-incidence. Then my oldest niece will be the third bridesmaid – she’ll be 9 – she’s white blonde but with dark, dark eyes and my god-daughter will be flower girl (she’ll be 6). She’ll also be wanting to wear pink which is never going to happen! Never. I set that down now.

We’re in our tin hut this weekend for its inaugural stay – the car is groaning with stuff we have to take down there and the de-beiging will commence as best we can manage. Bf queried, with some disapproval, why I felt the need to buy Cath Kidston mugs @ £4 a pop – well, it’s just that kitsch vibe, I suppose. I also got to use the word ‘fiancé’ for the first time in connection to this as I enquired about the price of a mattress topper in John Lewis. £150! I swallowed and squeaked that I’d have to talk to my “fiancé” about it. Then I had a little frisson of pleasure and felt silly.

Anyway, we will be doing a very long walk this weekend – think bf (or more like bnf (brand new fiancé)) has a 12 miler in mind. Next week I’m hoping to cycle three times (weather permitting) and do weights twice. Maybe even walk in one day too. All power to the de-lardification of this Aged Bride. Are you listening, SoD?