So, if you have been following along for quite some time then you will be familiar with my journey in trying to shed the rest of the Ben & Jerry's layer that I packed on during the last 2 months of my pregnancy.
My efforts were jump started with the impending nuptials of one of my dearest friends, as I am serving as one of her bridesmaids next weekend in South Carolina as she marries the man of her dreams. To reference the initial reason and panic in trying to get fit quickly, please read this.
I have been loosely followng a diet and exercise plan for the last few weeks in anticipation of this event. I had wanted to be more serious about it but well, life just sort of gets in the way sometimes and so does apparently, my love of dessert unfortunately.
So finally, doomsday came, in the form of a navy blue dress yesterday.
That's right, time to face the music to see if this hesitantly ordered 2 sizes smaller than what I measured out at 6 months ago, dress would zip.
As I drove to the bridal salon I couldn't help but feel like it was a final journey down the Green Mile. No turning back, your inevitable fate waiting for you at the end, no way of changing course now, what's done is done. My palms became sweaty, my heart picked up a pace or two as each mile ticked by counting off like a stick of dynamite until I reached my destination. I'm not going to lie, I thought of turning back more than once. At the traffic light 1/4 mile from my destination, I patiently waited at a painfully long red light right smack in front of a Baskin Robbins and even thought of stopping in for a quick cone. Then I quickly thought better of it, reminding myself that that is precisely how I got myself into this mess in the first place.
Once inside the bridal mecca, I nervously asked for my dress to be pulled and anxiously nibbled at my fingernails while little man and I waited for them to bring me my assumed blue sausage skin.
Crap, I thought. Why would I do this to myself? Why didn't I just order the size that fit and they could have just taken the damn thing in?! I swore to myself that this would be the last time that I ever did this for the rest of my life (lie) and felt shame for how I was going to explain not being able to zip my dress in front of the sales woman, let alone how I would explain this to my friend on the day of her wedding.
ugh. ugh, ugh. shame. shame. shame.
Then a seamstress emerged with my frock and showed LM and I to a "fun" dressing room with lots of mirrors designed to give you the ability to see yourself from every angle (aka, expose every flaw, flab, crevice and pasty dimple you've been hiding beneath swaths of cotton, denim and wool all winter long.) To little man, this was his idea of Disneyland, to me, my worst nightmare come to life.
As the seamstress waited for me to disrobe, I started to do that nervous overtalking thing where I could set the stage for what was about to come, my ultimate humiliation, about how I just had a baby and it's been so much harder to lose the weight than in my prebaby days, etc, etc, etc, (e.g excuse, excuse, excuse.) She kept nodding and agreeing and generally seemed sympathetic, but then, like pulling a band aid off of raw skin, she swung the dress over my head and started the ascent of the zipper. Wait! I thought, no countdown? I'm not ready! I didn't even realize that I was holding my breath until I heard her say "uh, oh."
"uh, oh?! What do you mean, uh oh?!" I said.
Just as I swung around to face the mirror and braced myself for the ultimate humiliation, I saw something I did not expect. There I stood, in my dress, fully zipped and gasp! It was too big! I blinked to be sure I wasn't dreaming and looked again. There it was, in plain sight- TOO BIG!! WOOT! WOOT! Fireworks went off in my own head and I immediately felt like I had won the lottery... or the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition (which is basically the same thing in mom fantasyland.)
Then it dawned on me. Uh oh was right. I hadn't planned on the dress actually fitting and so in turn, I hadn't prepared for any time to be taken into account should there be any alterations needed in time for our departure on Thursday. CRAP. "What do I do? I stammered, I'm so sorry that I came at the last minute but we're leaving Thursday morning and I can't go with my dress like this." She immediately put my mind at ease and reminded me why we live in one of the greatest countries in the world. Anything can be done, at any time.....for a fee, or course. A rush fee of $25 on top of the cost of alterations to be exact. God Bless America. Honestly though, I would have paid more just for the convenience and because I was still riding the skinny wave high.
So, it's official, I did it. Granted I still have a way to go to my goal and summer isn't even here yet, but I'm proud of myself for getting things off to a good start. While I certainly won't be practicing my poses for my centerfold pictorial anytime soon, I did leave that salon walking a little taller, with a little more sass in my step and I have to say, it felt great.
Here's what I'll be wearing next weekend in a slightly different shade of blue, minus the hat.
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