What's in a few pounds here or there?

There is nothing like a wedding to make you freak out about the way you look, especially if it’s you who is getting married. I’m bad enough at friend’s weddings. It takes a very secure woman to not worry about whether their dress will fit or whether they will look their ‘best’, especially when you have 130 people taking photos of you, not to mention ones you have paid an extortionate amount for.

Women spend tens, hundreds or thousands on their appearance for their wedding day according to Soundvision. Add up everything that makes you look 'pretty' and you have one hell of an eye watering beauty list.

Like Popeye, I take a certain optimistic yet pragmatic approach to my looks: I am what I am and yes, I do (in the main) very much like the way that I look. My body and I have had a checkered relationship. Like sisters who spend most of their time together arguing, we understand each other’s advantages and faults and accept them as part of our daily life.

On some days my thighs and I are not on speaking terms. When I lie on my back with my legs against a wall above me however, I admire them greatly. I am not thin. Neither am I fat. I would describe myself as ‘tall but solid with fat in the right places’. BF would describe me as having body dysmorphia and that I look lovely the way that I am. I don't believe him wholly.

Solid. Makes you think of a cow, doesn’t it. I am definitely solid. M always said I could one day be ‘willowy’ but I’ve never quite managed it. I liked food too much and exercised too little.

Thanks to an enjoyable, if unsuccessful, career in filmmaking, I have a lot of wonderful friends who can do wonderful surface things to make you look just wonderful. Mrs MW is doing my adjustments for my dress, P (who I lived with years ago and who used to work for a very famous London Salon) is doing my hair. I’m ok at my own make-up and have the added bonus of getting to keep it all afterwards having done a morning course at the Coquettes on a Groupon offer. So all in all, I am confidant that the facial area and the over body part will look good on the day.

It’s the bit underneath that has me worried right now.

It was only when I went for my dress measurements (bridal shops measure you to decide what dress size they will order about seven years, sorry seven months before your wedding) that the true desperation of the situation sank in.

I knew that I had put weight on since going out with BF. Before we met I was at my slimmest; almost-but-not-quite willowy. Then I started eating and keeping up with a man and it all went south. Before I knew it I had happy fat, definite love handles and was kicking myself a bit. And as anyone who has put on weight will know, as you get heavier the urge to exercise lessens. A true paradox.

So I am standing in the charming dressing room at the lovely Ellie Sanderson where I bought my dress, in my underwear thinking, ‘my god, I’m sure I got RID of that a year or so ago but apparently it’s back. And it’s worse’. Accacia has tied a ribbon around my waist as a reference point (or what there is of it – it sort of is merging with my hips and chest) and is now measuring me gently with small, cold hands and shouting out awfully high numbers to her assistant. My friend N (Girl friend of the Best Man) has come with me for moral support and can hear every word. I’m feeling vaguely embarrassed. I’m also quite mottled as it’s January and cold outside.

After I put my clothes out and emerge feeling like I did when I picked up my first round of A-Level module results ( I got a C and an E), it turns out, I am a couture 18. I feel like I got an F. F for Feminism just Died a bit inside me that I even care. Turns out I am not so happy with my body after all. You can parrot on all you want about wedding dresses being ‘ridiculous’ sizes, but this (and the sight of myself in my under roo’s in that unflatteringly massive mirror) has done something to me. Something has shifted in that dressing room. And I don’t mean my side fat.

We meet the boys for a drink and I am despondent as I sip my wine. Not as much as poor N who has to listen to me whitter on about how fat I am for about six streets. The pork scratchings turned to ashes in my mouth that night.

But I am never low for long. Accacia has said that we can either get me the dress that will fit my waist NOW but will be massive in the bust or I can aim to loose enough weight to go one size lower. That means loosing 3 inches around my waist. That is actually quite a lot of inches – a mountain to climb at that stage but you think that six months is ages. Turns out it isn’t.

I ring Mrs MW to ask her professional dress making advice – go with the one that fits now or one which is a size smaller? Professionally, her advice is, ‘Sod it, go for the small one and eat less.’ So I do. This is apparently against all other professional wedding advice (see this article from Bridal Guide) but life is just not worth living if you don’t take a few risks. This is what I was telling myself when I ordered it.

So here I am several months later, one gym membership in my wallet and with my dress fitting next Saturday morning. The dress that I am hoping will do up, let alone fit.

I can’t say that I am skinny; I am not. I can’t say that the weight has ‘fallen off’ because it hasn't. I have however been slowly toning up and loosing weight. I have also lost 2.5 inches from around my waist and am ½ an inch away from that 31 inch waist band.

Looking good is a pressure but honestly, I have come to the conclusion that you should only do any of this rubbish if you want to. While I may have decided to spent £150 on some random wrap thing which I have always secretly wanted to do an am using this as an excuse (Contour Wrap – I am very excited!), it doesn't mean that you have to. Unless you want to. If you don’t want to have a professional manicure, then don’t have one! If your dress fits when you try it on, don’t have it altered. What is the point in spending £400 on a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes in white that you will never wear again (thanks Frugality - top tip!)?  

Finally, here are my top ten, 100% biased, unprofessional top tips to future brides, bridesmaids, grooms or just people who would like to loose some weight and get fit without going mad or over doing it in the process:

   1)  Gyms are really expensive! My god they are so fricking expensive. In my local area, I have the choice between the County Council Gyms, LA Fitness, David Lloyd. Shop around. We wound up choosing DW because they had the combo of a pool, gym and classes, were around the corner and frankly, were the cheapest. At £39 a month for a 6 month contract, they are a bargain compared to other gyms pricing up at £60-80 a month on a year long contract. It is worth it. I am sure you can do it on your own but there is something about ‘getting my moneys worth’ which keeps me going….

2)  Get a personal Trainer. I mean it. I was never one of those people who thought having a personal trainer was worth the money and then I found Simon. Simon is a genius. He is encouraging, pushes me hard without making me want to cry and is very reasonable price wise – find out some prices and they will surprise you. Plus I get to say ‘Simon says’ at least once a day to BF. Get someone you feel comfortable with and who understands what your goals are. They will even work you out a diet plan. It is 100% worth the effort and cost.

3)  Go to classes. I love classes!! Zumba! Boxercise! Bodycombat! So much better than trudging around the machines in a boring routine, they will work every inch of you and make sure that you are toned all over instead of just doing loads of cardio. You can also work at your own pace and get what you want out of them.

 4) Just stop eating shit. Seriously. No crisps, no cake, no biscuits, no jam. Do you need ice cream on those strawberries? OK, you do, but do you need that much? Had a long day and need a glass of wine? NO! You don’t! Just by cutting out crap you’ll find you seriously help yourself along, especially if you can give up booze. I actually cut out sugar. Seriously. I make my own muesli with oats, dried fruit, some flaked almonds and some truvia now. Didn’t see that one coming….

5)  If the diet sounds too good to be true, it totally is. Do I think raspberry keytones have made ANY difference to my weight? No. Has drinking buckets of green tea made me thinner? No. Not that I don’t take them. BF calls them ‘expensive wee’. What has made me thinner is eating brekkie, not snacking, having salad and chicken for lunch and an uber healthy meal in the evening. It’s depressing. I hate it. But it works. My Fitness Pal is a free app and will track your calories and also your exercise routine. Plus you can make rude comments on all of your friend’s pages. 

6)  Measure inches. Sod the weight. It’s an indication of nowt as BF would say. Keep an idea of it sure, but if you’re doing what I’m doing and aiming for visits to the gym at least 4 times a week, then you are not going to loose much weight. What you are going to do is loose fat and gain muscle. Which is good. Read this article on Muscle Vs Fat. Basically not only does muscle take up less space and look better but it also means you burn more calories just doing nothing by increasing your metabolic efficiency. BONUS! So any girls out there who think weights are for boys, think again!

7) Be realistic. My bingo wings are not going to go, however much Boxercise and Bodycombat I do between now and the wedding. Sad but true. Do I worry? No! I am just going to have to accept that I have slightly plump arms. At least I HAVE arms.

8)  Loose it slow and keep it off. And don’t stress about it. It won’t go any faster for you fretting (sorry to all of my friends who have constant weight updates – FYI, I am fretting a lot). Your future husband doesn’t give a shit if you have lost weight. I almost guarantee he didn’t propose to you just to have you turning into some food crazed dragon woman. He liked you how you were before enough to buy it. Loosing weight is for yourself and yourself alone.

9)   You’re going to look epic no matter what. Really, you are.

10) Don’t believe everything you read. BF is a scientist and I am not. He never accepts things for what they are at face value whereas I do. When I say ‘potatoes are bad for you’ he comes back with this article which actually proves that is tosh. Yes, potatoes are not bad for you! Stop saying they are. Imagine what else you are told is going to help and is actually merely causing you misery! Do some proper research when people tell you to ‘cut’ things out. Mainly it’s about moderation, not prohibition.

 This has been a slight deviation from the subject but needless to say, I am very nervous about fitting in my dress. Please wish me luck for a week’s time when I go to try it on and I will be keeping up the good work by heading to a quick boxercise class tonight before leaving to visit my parents and try to avoid drinking too much wine. Sad times.

I just hope I can keep it up long enough.

Dress Shopping is not as easy at it first appears.....

Here's the thing.

I have been genuinely excited about one major thing after BF popped the question and the dust settled a bit, and that was trying on wedding dresses. In those amazingly clean, expensive looking shops. Where everything in them is white. The colour favoured by Rich People. People who don’t care about spilling food down themselves because they can afford dry cleaning. And everything is a sort of rosy pink or mint green silk on the curtains or gold gilded. The shops you never go into unless you’re getting married. The shops I used to hate when I was single bah humbug.

I’m sure all ladies out there are with me here – actively going and trying on wedding dresses if you’re not engaged feels like a taboo. You just don’t do it.

Take that ridiculous jingle everyone over 60 seems to trot out at weddings: ‘Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride’. Which basically is saying in old fashioned lingo; ‘you will never find the love of your life if you’re always being a bridesmaid’? Gee whizzers. Harsh.  I can remember as a little girl being warned when I was bridesmaid for my cousin’s wedding by my Granny (God rest her), ‘Second time! Three times and you’ll never get married’ and genuinely feeling worried that it might come true.

I was nine.

These odd taboos get into our heads and boy, do they mess with it. By the time turn 5 in my Bridesmaiding career came around I was so resigned to being single I actually found myself wondering if there was something in it. After all I was, by the looks of it, never going to meet anyone, let alone marry them. It must be true! I am cursed! The fact that I met BF on my 6^th turn as a bridesmaid is testimony to what an absolute load of bosh the whole thing is.

Regardless, I would never, ever even THINK of trying on a wedding dress in a shop before I was engaged to anyone at any time of my life just in case.

So when I finally got around to trying on a dress I had built the whole experience up to Monstrous Proportions.

I was genuinely terrified. There was something about that massive white frock and its’ three to four number price tag that made the whole thing somehow a lot more real. So I put it off for a while until M, understandably very excited about seeing her only daughter in a wedding dress, finally cornered me and I reluctantly made some appointments with a trembling hand wondering what the hell they were doing to do to me for an hour and half long appointment.

Quick break from the story here for all those who haven’t been through the circus of picking a dress.

The way I see it, there are several kinds of wedding dress shops. You get your boutique shops where you have to make an appointment REALLY far in advance and everything costs over £1500 and the ladies are called ‘Chrystal’ and ‘Denise’ and where basically anything you put on will look stunning. Anything. Every dress in that shop is priced high for a reason. It might not be the dress for you but it’s beautifully cut and is made to make any woman look like a goddess.  Strictly no photos please. There is not a tiara in sight. They use special bands to tie up the back of the dress. The dresses are usually all made in the UK or America and are guaranteed to make you leave feeling that in fact £4000 is not a bad price for perfection really….

Then you have your mid-range shops (my favourite) usually in the smaller towns which sell lots of dresses made in Europe. There are a lot of Mermaid style dresses around at the moment in these shops. Lots. And lace. Lots of lace. The most expensive dress might set you back £1200 at most but mainly they are around £900. You usually get seen by the owner of the shop which makes you feel quite special. Always book to make an appointment. They have a selection of bridesmaid dresses and you get a good discount if you buy everything with them. Some places allow photos, others don’t. You get fastened up with elastic bands at the back and usually you want to buy from them as they are just so lovely. I am a fan of a mid-range shop. Although I didn’t see my perfect frock in any of them I had two amazing experiences at Katherine Allen Bridal in Banbury and Fantasia Bridal in Abingdon. If you live nearby GO! They are just lovely.

Finally you have your local bridal salon. I adore them. I really do. They are always run by women who know their stuff but have none of consummate showmanship that somewhere calling themselves a ‘boutique’ would have. Literally none. Once I was just given a dress and told to get into it. Just, you know, get in it. The dress stood up on its own and I didn’t even know where to start. There are none of the silk and satin changing cubicles, soft carpets or platforms to stand on which the Mid-range and Top and Mid-range shops have. Neither do you get cosseted. It’s plain business with these dresses. There are Tiaras everywhere. You get fastened at the back with a giant crocodile clip. And every dress has sequins. Every frock is a Princess Frock. Mainly the dresses are from China.

Then you have your sample sales. But more of this later.

I rang up for my first two appointments for a Mid-range shop in the morning and a Top-range shop in the afternoon with M. And I was incredibly nervous. I had a bikini wax. I wore a strapless bra. I shaved my legs. I was genuinely upset when my hair just wouldn’t dry!

M was pretty amazing. She is generally pretty amazing – she is buying my dress and said airily on the way that she had expected to pay £x so not to worry. Blimey, I thought. Blimey. Panic increased.

That morning I found out:
1)      I look really good in strapless dresses. Which is annoying as I get really peeved at the amount of people in strapless wedding dresses. It’s like every bride for the last 5 years has bought the same dress. I am starting to see why.
2)      I look pretty good in most wedding dresses. Ego overdrive yes. But I have always suited properly structured dresses (I did a lot of historical stage plays and spent a whole week in Edinburgh living in an 18^th Century frock). So actually, there were loads of dresses that would have looked lovely for BF and my wedding. That wasn’t the issue; these frocks are designed to look GOOD! It’s getting the right one for you that’s the problem….
3)      I love massive frocks and massive frocks love me. MASSIVE. MASSIVE! M restrained me in the end but there is nothing like looking at yourself in a dress that makes you feel like you’re in a Ballroom scene from a Victorian Melodrama….
4)      A belt really helps. It makes your waist look teeny. Genius.
5)      I do not suit a mermaid style dress. My bum is too big, my boobs too small.
6)      Sample sizes are weird. I fitted in one 14, not in another, another 16 was too small and then she laced me into a 10. Say what?
7)      If you’re getting married and are in a hurry, shop around for a sale dress. Wowser, you can get some good deals!

All that in one morning. Talk about a crash course in wedding dress shopping. By now my hair was dry and, feeling more confident, M and I packed into the car and trundled to a larger town. We had lunch and then went to our next appointment. Ellie Sanderson in Oxford. One of the top ranges. Eek!!

By now, despite my lovely experience of the morning I was getting nervous again. I imagined Pretty Woman and a snobby shop assistant. I even ran to loo’s to try and make my now insane hair (you lift dresses over the head – put your hair up!) actually sit in some kind of normal way. What I got was Acacia.

What a doll. Just a lovely lady. Down to earth, helpful and willing to find the perfect dress, she sat M and I in on the chaise lounge and talked us through the options. Using the knowledge I had gleaned that morning, she helped me pick out a few dresses to try and in I went with the special fastening on the back done up very quickly.

Naturally they were the most expensive ones in the shop but they were stunning.

The first one I tried on by Suzanne Neville could be cut to any shape on the top as they made it for me. It was stunning and had a price tag to match. But by god, internal corset, English cotton lace and a silhouette to die for, you were paying for a thing of beauty.

I didn’t think things could get any better and then tried on a Sassi Holford dress. Oh yummy.

By this point money and sense had gone out of the window and M and I were feeling slightly carried away. In the end we made ourselves go away, giddy with luxury, and think about it and reminded ourselves that we had plenty of time.

No, we didn’t. Every shop I went into told me bluntly that looking for dresses for a wedding 10 months away is actually not a long time. You need to order the dress in time for it to be fitted. Ordering before Christmas would be best. No pressure.

Argh. Argh.

Now came the Bleak Time. I tried on so many dresses. So very many. All lovely. But none the Right One.

I tried all ranges of shops. I had a brilliant experience in the very friendly shop in my home town at Brocades with M and MinL where, despite me having mild bronchitis, we tried on lots of wonderful MASSIVE frocks with some of the most down to earth shop assistants on the planet. But after a while I was in a big white blur. I couldn’t make M pay for the beautiful dresses I had tried on with lots of numbers in the price tag which had been the closest thing to what I wanted – I just couldn’t. And after a while….it becomes a chore. A CHORE! Finding your bloody wedding dress is just another thing to be done and ticked off the list. This was not right. Something had to be done.

I was not Bridechiller. No. Once again she was creeping closer, the panic inducing ‘I’ll just buy that MASSIVE Chinese frock because I don’t care anymore’ Bridezilla. And then the email popped through about the Sample Sale at Ellie Sanderson in Beaconsfield.

So with a bit of organising I got an appointment for 9.30am (with the philosophy that everything good would be gone later on), rallied the troops (M and Mrs McW – M because I wouldn’t buy a dress without her and Mrs McW because I wouldn’t buy a dress without her and also she had offered to see if she could make anything out of the usually small sample sizes for me to fit into) and off we headed to Beaconsfield.

Sample Sales are fun! I don’t care what anyone says. You get given a coloured tag and pop it on frocks. You share a changing room with another excited bride (there is just enough competition with ‘Oh, I like that dress’ to  ‘Get off it’s mine!’ to add piquancy to the experience while everyone is actually PICKING THEIR WEDDING DRESS together which is amazingly fun). You get whisked into the chosen frock and then wander out into this bright, hard edged territory filled with slightly harassed looking mums, very busy shop assistants rushing around dressed in funereal black and loads of youngish women in big white dresses turning this way and that in the mirror worriedly wondering if this is the one and if not, can they try on that dress over there that that other woman is in please? Now! Before she buys it!!

And occasionally you get to see the brilliantly smiling, joyful face of the girl who has found her dress at 50% off. Pricelessly wonderful to see I can tell you. I got a lot of vicarious happiness out of a few of those.

I was sharing a changing room with a very smiley young woman around my age with amazing red curly hair. In the end it got very jolly with us admiring each other’s frocks. I tried on few (all very nice but not right for one reason or another). M and Mrs MW found a veil reduced to £70 which had a beautiful lace edge and decided I was going to wear it (fair enough).

And then, I put it on. The Dress. It was about two sizes too small so this actual dress obviously wasn’t THE dress, but it was the perfect style. The price tag had one more number than was desired but having looked at me M said screw it. We put down the deposit that day and it was all up to me to get the weight off for the fitting in January. The best thing was that Acacia is going to be measuring me in the Oxford branch and I hope gets the commission from the sale. That woman had worked HARD when we’d seen her last!

Heading back in the changing room in my wedding dress the young lady sharing the cubical asked if I was going to buy it. I said yes, but not the sample as it was too small. I don’t know whether I recommended that she tried it on, whether she had already tried it on and liked it on me or whether she just liked it, but she wound up buying it. We swopped emails in the trendy pub where we’d both independently gone for a drink of champagne afterwards and I can’t wait to see how beautiful she looks in it.

I am allowed to be cheesy. It’s my wedding dress.

Ring a Ding Ding

I was out in Oxford with Mrs McW and we had been looking (you know, idly looking) at jewellers. Everything is so expensive. For example, even at a mid range high street jewellers you are looking at £1000 + for a teeny little solitaire. I am sure it’s a highly clear, carroted solitaire but it is teeny. Do they not know I have medium sized hands?

Here is a good example.

Now while I’m sure this is a stunning ring for a lot of you girls, I have always felt (and this is very personal I know) that platinum or white gold looks basically like silver, besides which I like gold, and I'm also not fond of solitaires. Which are everywhere.

There was some vague talk of using the gold from my Great Grandmother’s ring melted down and then buying the stones but honestly, neither BF or I were organised enough. I don’t think he wanted to over think the engagement to that extent either.

Also I was horrified when I did some digging to find out the ethical responsibility you take on when you buy newly mined diamonds.

The Kimberley process was set up to attempt to monitor the diamond trade in 2003 after noticing that the international diamond trade might just be fuelling human rights violations in a collection of African nations. Unfortunately, despite wide spread publicity, few retailers can guarantee their diamonds are conflict free. 

You can’t even prove that they ARE certified by the Kimberley Press according to Wikipedia:

“The Kimberley Process has ultimately failed to stem the flow of blood diamonds, leading key proponents such as Global Witness to abandon the scheme.[32] In addition, there is no guarantee that diamonds with a Kimberley Process Certification are in fact conflict free. This is due to the nature of the corrupt government officials in the leading diamond producing countries. It is common for these officials to be bribed with $50 to $100 a day in exchange for paperwork declaring that blood diamonds are Kimberley Process Certified”

Good god. Not only am I Bridechiller, now I am also an ethical bride! I have to be because what I’m reading here is pretty horrifying. ‘Blood Diamond’ was based on something apparently.

So not only do these rings you’re looking at cost about 8 times what they will be when your fella walks out of the shop with them (they’re apparently like a car – remove a wadge when you drive it off the show room) but they are also unethical purchases. What to do? 

Engagement rings were originally like collateral. The Romans would pledge rings to one another. If you were rich enough a ring was like a business pledge. 'I will legally tie myself to your daughter; here is something expensive which you can keep as a deposit until I do'. As an avid reader of Georgette Heyer I can also tell you, women can break off an engagement, men cannot. It's just not done, sir! Would the lady keep the ring if she did break it off? Well, if that ring (never diamond by the way) had been 200 years old and in the family as the heir's pledge ring to his future wife? Maybe not. Would you keep your engagement ring if your fiance jilted you? Heck yes. I can imagine the law suits. You can see why ladies were expected to break it off; you'd hardly keep the ring if you made the decision to end it.

Engagement rings became aped by the middle classes in turn. When diamond mines were discovered in parts of Africa and Asia in the late 19th Century, diamonds became a plentiful stone. The aspiring middle classes were the perfect market to flog the sparkly little gems to, especially when they could be pimped up with a smaller but more expensive sapphire or ruby. It's Frances Gerety, an advertising copywriter, who coined the genius slogan 'Diamonds are Forever' in 1947. The rise in pre-marital sex in the 1940's corresponded to a surge in engagement rings. After all, if a ring is a pledge of marriage, why wouldn't you? Diamonds are a girl's best friend and you should always get that ring before you open your legs.... crude but effective. 

 Do you even need to have a diamond? My best friend T has as beautiful sapphire and diamond vintage art deco ring. Mrs McW herself has a custom made sapphire engagement ring which she wears as a combination engagement and wedding ring. Hatton Gardens, the Jewellery Quarter in Birmingham and the Lanes in Brighton are all excellent places to go second hand ring shopping.

In the end I saw it in a gallery shop where I live and Mrs McW took BF down the very next day and he bought it.

I think this was a relief for us both. We have just cleared off our debt and there we were considering putting it on a credit card. Which is stupid.

Now I have a wonderful, turn of the century ring in gold. 

And the even better thing other than having a beautiful, individual, ethical (so far as I can tell) and vintage ring which BF made sure fitted by taking one of my old rings with him to have it resized? Looking on Ebay to find one exactly the same being sold for a lot more in America. Result.

Thanks to Shanon Rupp for her amazing article here on how unromantic engagement rings are!