At this time last year, I had just re-taken up running. I was intent on losing just 15 pounds by now…instead, I’ve gained about that much. So now I’m 30 whole pounds out from my original goal. Brilliant. Curse you old man winter!
Everytime I think about my bridesmaid’s dress, I hyperventilate. Just picturing myself in that strapless thing sends me into a downward spiral from which there is no escape. I have nightmares about this dress.
But does that stop me from partaking in a little chocolate-frosted-donut action on bible study mornings? Noooooooo. I’d still eat a donut even if I had a picture of the dress tattooed on my forearm.
And so. The dress will officially be mine in just a matter of days. The two of us will meet and exchange polite glances in front of my sisters, but I know that once we’re alone, the dress will mock me and then we’ll have it out. I’ll put on 6-inch heels thinking that it will somehow please the dress. But the dress does not decide to look good on me, heels or no heels. I’ll put my hair in a bun. I’ll find a pretty necklace to wear with it. I’ll duct-tape my chest. Yet all this does nothing to change the dress’s mind and that, my friends, is when the dress hits the fan.
I may or may not actually be in this wedding.
Well, hello, dress. We meet at last.