The wedding of the year, has now happened. The holiday in Canada which preceded it was wonderful and my gorgeous brother-in-law and new sister-in-law put on truly fantastic wedding bash. After all my hard work getting trim and wedding-ready this year, do you think I could behave myself in the 2 weeks of holiday leading up to the big day? No, no I could not.
In America, I ate like I was due to have my teeth removed the next day. In Canada, I packed away more food than your average Mountie and washed it down with enough Diet Coke to actually inflate myself. Yup, properly inflate myself. My stomach became so inflated and bloated that genuinely, I looked 9 months pregnant. I'm not even kidding. The holiday snaps don't lie. My least scary tummy control knickers, packed 'just in case' could not contain the damage I had inflicted upon myself..........complete and total frikkin moron. Who spends 8 months losing over 2 stone only to put (I expect) 50% of it back on in the fortnight before the event that you started slimming for.........Me. I do. Moron.
I managed to further enhance my appearance with a dye-job on my hair that actually turned it orange. I have a wonderful holiday photo on my camera of my husband and 2 kids unexpectedly posing with what appears on first glance to be the character "C.U Jimmy" from the 1980's Russ Abbott TV show at a cute Vermont farm.................look him up. Pump him full of air. Stick him in a purple frock. That was me at the wedding. That was also me at the farm (without the dress). That particular photo is not going in the album.
An incredibly brave friend of the bride straightened by hair prior to the wedding- I have never seen my hair so straight- seriously it was immaculate. I have BIG hair and had always assumed that a combination of this and my hamster cheeks gave the illusion of a big head. Surely, despite my mother's assertions the the contrary on EVERY one of my birthdays that I have the world's largest head, I thought that she was jesting. She is not. The optical illusion created by giant boobs results in my head looking smaller than it is.......poker straight hair made me realise that my head is truly huge......and the real kicker? It turns out that the weight of the giant boobs and the massive noggin makes me hunch my shoulders, again evidenced in every photo of me this holiday. I was a visual asset at the wedding- bloated, giant head, orange hair, hunchbacked, freaky sized boobs and due to the 35 degree heat, bright red................my husband is a lucky, lucky man...........
When I reflect upon my behaviour, not just in these recent weeks but in the broad general principle, I am forced to acknowledge the possibility that I may actually be a disgrace. It is not a state of being that I am unfamiliar with. Previous occasions that I have been labeled a disgrace include the following:
1) At age 14 on a geography field trip in Devon, I met a lad from another school. A late night patrol of the grounds by his large scary teacher discovered us snogging in the bushes at the end of the drive. We were both labelled a disgrace and sent back to the hostel. It was a shared disgrace but a disgrace nonetheless.
2) During some very difficult and complex Care Proceedings in the High Court for which I was the social worker on the case, a family member, who was dressed entirely in transparent lycra as if planning a night on the razzle and who had just admitted to the court that she had abused children in a horrifying manner, marched up to me in front of a large crowd and screamed at me "You are a f**king disgrace, a f**king disgrace". I was unsure which way to take this assertion....................perhaps she was referring to my wardrobe and the fact that she felt I clearly hadn't made the level of effort that she herself had gone to in the clothing department as the stripper heels gave her ensemble the classy touch. Or maybe, she'd had a premonition that in 7 years time, I would be eating my own body weight in maple pancakes prior to a large family event and wanted to warn me.......who knows? Unsurprisingly perhaps, we won the case.........I still ate the friggin pancakes........
3) Aged 2 at my brother's christening. A little peeved at the level of attention he was receiving, I ran up to the altar, turned on congregation and flashed my knickers from the front of the church..........a technique that has served me well in adult life..........my first encounter with the word 'disgrace', this time uttered by my mother. The first time she'd used it in reference to me.
I am certain, with every neuron in my body, that it won't be the last time that accusation is levied my way.
I'm not even sorry.
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