The sun slowly slipped down behind the Appalachian foothills
surrounding Fern Hill Farm. The guests
were dressed in their Sunday best and were waiting patiently for the ceremony
to start. The beautiful bride arrived in
a cranberry colored 1930’s Ford that Gatsby himself would have envied. Dressed
in ivory and clutching her bouquet of crimson flowers her father had grown and
arranged himself, she was the perfect mixture of homegrown and high
fashion. All the planning and the stress
and the dress fittings, all the food tasting and the sleepless nights, all the
fuss and the long distance arrangements dealing with a bridesmaid 900 miles
away (yours truly of course) had all come down to this. They had the flowers and the rings and their
vows and the music. They had a feast of
BBQ and homemade pie waiting and they had the perfect weather on a Kentucky
August night. Most of all, they had a
host of family and friends, myself included surrounding them as they embarked
on the journey of being husband and wife.
It was a whirlwind of emotion and I barely had time to prepare myself to
do it all over again. Oh yeah… remember
that little black dress I was supposed to wear for this joyous occasion? It fit :)
Three weeks passed and I hopped a plane back to Kentucky. Tucked safely in my carry-on luggage were a
strappy pair of silver heels and more importantly, a size 6 plum colored
bridesmaid dress. I hadn’t tried it on
since April… when I was 10 lbs lighter.
I was mentally preparing myself for going to buy some spanx and
practicing shallow breathing, you know…
just in case I had to suck it in to keep from busting out. I texted the bride (my cousin) and told her I
wanted to apologize in advance if I looked like a busted can of biscuits on her
special day. In true snarky family
style, she replied “you better be glad I love you”. And I was.
I was so honored that she had chosen me to share in her special day. After college, the two of us had not had a
chance to spent any time together. My
husband and I had moved to Florida and she had moved to Northern Kentucky,
settling about 2 hours from the little hometown where we shared so many great
childhood memories. She had a son who
was the light of her life, become one of the greatest Middle School Science
teachers, and met a wonderful man who made her complete. What a joy it was to share in all of that.
I landed on Friday, had lunch with my parents and “brother”
and headed back for a little retail therapy at Just Plain Fancy Boutique. While I was there, I tried on that
bridesmaid’s dress. I needed to know
whether we were taking an emergency run to the mall for some Spanx and maybe a
crowbar… to get me back out of the dress of course.
It zipped. When I say
it zipped, I mean I had a LOT of help maneuvering and held my breath as the
zipper made its way from bottom to top.
I knew I was one carb filled meal or dairy product away from bursting
out of that dress. I was
devastated. That dress was loose when I
got it and now it had become my second skin.
But it zipped… and that would have to do.
The next day I avoided carbs, dairy and even water (which I
know is not healthy) like the plague. I
kept telling myself that I just had to make it until after the ceremony. Luckily, getting my hair done, a mani/pedi,
make up, and helping set up occupied a lot of my time. When the time came to slip that dress on for
pre-wedding pictures, it was still tight, but I could breathe and move without
sending my zipper flying into someone’s eye.
The minutes counted down until ceremony time. It was time for the beautiful bride to put on
her gown. The other bridesmaid and
myself watched as the mother and maid of honor helped her slip into a strapless
A-line with just the right amount of sparkle.
They zipped her up, fixed her veil and touched up her lipstick.
At that moment, as I stood back and watched her put the
finishing touches on in the mirror, nothing else mattered. She was clothed in happiness and love. It wouldn’t have mattered if had come down the
aisle that day in my skivvies for the bride was picture perfect. There was one lucky groom waiting for her and
I know he was blown away when he first saw her walking in. Her fairytale day had arrived and all eyes
were on the beautiful bride.
When I told the respective brides that I had gained 10
pounds they didn’t believe me. When people
tell me at I look great, often times, I don’t believe them. Am I continuing to eat
right, exercise and train? Yes. Will I continue to try and improve my
body? Yes. But often times, I’m so hung up on who I used
to be that it’s very hard to appreciate how far I’ve come. I know I’m getting stronger, faster, and
healthier. I know I’ve improved in so
many ways. But I’m the first to admit
that there are days when I look in the mirror and I don’t see a size 6. I see a size 16. The person I used to be. I know that my perception of myself in the
mirror is markedly different than how others perceive how I look. I’m working on that. I’m working on being less hard on myself and
truly realizing that I’ve come a long way from the girl who had to lay down on
the bed to zip those “Juniors Plus” jeans.
At this point, the battle isn’t in the physical work, it’s in having
mental and emotional strength.
I have to start telling myself “You can do this”, “You’ve
come so far” and “You will achieve that racing weight your desire”. Most of all, I have to start trusting other
people. Trust that they see the real
me. Trust that their compliments are
sincere and trust that they see all the hard work I’ve put in, even on the days
that I don’t.
Love yourself so you can love other people. Don’t become so hung up on a number or a size that each day becomes a mental battle with yourself to even leave the house without feeling “fat” or “ugly”. I know I have to start truly following this advice.
Love that feeling that you get after a run or a great workout. Love the way you look in that new dress you just bought. Love the journey and not just the destination.
At the end of the day, it’s all about love.
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