Taming The “Girls”

The story so far…

December 2009: Gerard proposes to me moments after I become a Canadian citizen. It’s a weird, weird feeling. When I woke up that morning I was an immigrant living in sin. Now I’m a bona fide Canadian living with a fiance in my own country. Sounds a lot more respectable, doesn’t it?

January 2010: Gerard’s Mom, who can work miracles with a bit of fabric and a sewing machine, offers to make my wedding dress. This is an offer I am thrilled to accept. My future mother-in-law will make something way better than anything I’d buy in a store. For some reason, I remember that this happens on the same day on which I get my new laptop and my then four-year-old sweetly asks his Dad, “Where’s the f*cking donut shop?”

August 2010: Me, Gerard’s Mom, maid-of-honour Michelle, bridesmaid Jenn, and Michelle’s daughter Megan brave the wedding dress stores. We go from place to place and I try on several dresses to get an idea of what looks good. Whatever dress we pick will be the one that my custom-made dress will be modelled off of. As it turns out, the dress that I absolutely love the best is the very first dress I tried on, in the very first store we walked into. Funny how that happens.

September 2010: There is a stupid argument between me and Gerard’s Mom. The details are not important, except for the bit where the offer of a custom-made dress is rescinded. I love the family I’m marrying into, I really do. They are wonderful, wonderful people with gigantic hearts and generous spirits. It’s just that from time to time, they turn into drama queens.

October 2010: Me and future mother-in-law have a civilized conversation in which we calmly discuss the misunderstanding. The offer of a dress is reinstated and accepted. We are back on track! Me, mother-in-law, and her sister head to Toronto’s bridal shopping district to get fabric and lace for the dress (do you KNOW how expensive lace is? Baffling!). Within days I am being measured and a prototype made out of cotton is being fitted on me.

And now, the story continues…

About two weeks ago, the almost-complete wedding dress was fitted on me. To say that it looks gorgeous would be an understatement. The lace and beadwork on it is a true work of art, it is cut in lines that flatter my body, the colour complements the tone of my skin perfectly. The only problem was that the bra I was using to try on the dress with was – well, crappy.

Yes, I am indeed discussing my underwear in a public blog. Just thought I’d clarify that point.

It only makes sense for me to be fitted in the dress while wearing the bra I will actually wear on the day of my wedding, and the bra I was using was definitely not it. In fact, that bra is headed for the garbage can very soon.

Last week I went bra-shopping. I did not go bra-shopping in the way I usually do, which is to go to Wal-Mart and pick up the cheapest bra I can find, which generally turns out to be about as supportive as a piece of dental floss. No, this time, I went to a specialist bra shop. One of those places where you get ushered into a change room the size of my living room and offered a pair of slippers and a soft, fluffy dressing gown. The bra specialist (seriously, the word “assistant” is not enough for what this woman does) fussed around me with a tape measure, and then brought me a selection of bras to try on.

It turns out that my knockers are a lot bigger than I thought they were.

I walked out of there with a lovely new bra that I knew would complete the look of the wedding dress. I confess that my eyes popped when I saw that I was paying $90. For a bra! Bear in mind, I’m used to paying fifteen bucks at Wal-Mart, but then again, at Wal-Mart I’m not exactly paying for quality.

This is a quality bra. It will give me all the support I need.

I took it home, put it on, and tried on the dress. It looked stunning. Looking at myself in the mirror wearing the dress, I was convinced that the bra was worth every penny of the ninety dollars.

There was just one thing…

The dress was too loose around the hips. I’m not saying I had a little bit of wiggle room, I’m saying I had an entire gigantic wiggle house. The bit around the hips had to taken in substantially. Once that was done, I looked in the mirror with my mother-in-law beside me, and both of us sighed with contentment.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight since you were measured,” said my mother-in-law. Words that every woman loves to hear.

Today I will continue on my quest for my shoes. I still don’t have the damned shoes!