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Gretna Green in a T-shirt?

Posted on: Sunday, 26 June 2011

Buggery buggery bollocks bollocks BALLS. BALLS BALLS BALLS.

Dress wobble of epic proportions.


Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

To be fair, it isn't finished. Or wasn't. The wee sashy bit around the middle hadn't been stitched on. The lace needs tacking to the satin under-layer bit to stop it flapping around.

Also, it was a hot day. That might sound a bit random, but hot days make me stressed.

And she kept touching me as she was pinning bits here and there. I get stressed out when people are too close/flap around me/stand too close to me on buses. We weren't on a bus, like, but you know what I mean. It makes me want to scream.

And she was talking a lot. Too much. She was trying to tell me the life story of the cat as she scrabbled around my hemline on her hands and knees ("...and then our Daniel and Fiona had a baby and one day I saw the cat in the baby's cot and they wouldn't have him any more so then...." I don't even LIKE cats! I HATE them! And the thought of a fat black and white one rubbing up against my dress makes me feel a bit like what touching cotton wool does to me!) and I had to resist the urge to scream 'Shut up!' or kick her.

I am talking about kicking an elderly lady. I am a BAD PERSON.

And now I'm looking at Totally Utterly Plain dresses on the internet and wondering whether I should be buying one. Argh.

I've just rang Adam who is shearing a sheep somewhere in West Riding. He finds it very difficult to comment having seen neither the Mrs Doubtfire dress nor the Utterly Plain ones I'm currently perusing. He does, however, think I've gone mad, clearly.

Maybe I have. Maybe I'll just wear a t-shirt. Why the buggery can one not wear a t-shirt to get married in? And skinny jeans. Favourite outfit. Why the bloody hell not?

I feel a bit like I've been conned by this whole bloody industry. I would NEVER in a million years buy an ivory/cream/white dress in a High Street shop for the simple reason that I am Of Paddy Descent, and therefore am pale and freckly and wholly unsuited to colours more or less the same shade as my skin. Why on earth am I buying one now?

OK. Less hysteria. I need to check my work emails, write a new assessment policy, plan two year 10 smartboard poetry lessons, dry my hair and make paella. Then I need to Sort My Bloody Head Out and work out what a girl is to do.

Oh Jesus. What to do?!



  1. Deep breaths! I basically think you'd be an alien if you didn't have a dress freak-out. It's a rite of passage!

    Whatever you do, don't make any decisions now. Act when you've had a chance to cool off - you were in a situation where a lot of external factors (un dress related) were winding you up, so not best environment to make any rash decisions. There's still time to get a dress (I found and bought mine within a 10 minute coffee break - it can be done), so let yourself settle, promise yourself you won't think about it for the next few days, then revisit it and weigh up the pros and cons to narrow down what you really want out of your wedding dress.



  2. I completely agree with Penny - this is completely normal external factor induced panic city. Is there any way that you can take the dress away from Mrs Doubtfire and the kittens of hell and try it on in a happier place so that you can see it for what it is and not what person or animal is crawling around your hem?

    You're going to look stunning and cool as a cucumber (aah being British, it's a sweaty affair, complete sympathy on the stressy heat, I can't survive unless I'm lounging like the greek goddess I wish I looked like)

  3. Oh God. Well, today, I do feel calmer. So that's something.

    But still wholly uncertain, which isn't so good.

    My mother is picking up the dress tonight and transporting it to Leeds for me to try on in the attic with various shoes while Bedders listens to the wails of despair from downstairs. God love em. She is a gem for doing it. He is a gem for putting up with me.

    I will keep you updated. Thanks for your kind, calming words!


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