Last week I was at the wedding of one of my longest standing and greatest friends. More on this in another post.
At this wedding I knew I was going to see people who I have not seen since I left university, almost ten years ago. Ten years ago I was a size 16 (ish), had short hair, never wore make up and had no idea how to dress. Now I’m a bit smaller, have long hair, do wear make up and as for knowing how to dress, it’s up for debate.
I decided I was going to crash diet to lose half a stone, wear a short white dress and buy a pair of outrageous red heels. I subconsciously – no, consciously – wanted to demonstrate that I was not the woman I once was. The woman I now am is FIT, confident, and two dress sizes smaller. I wanted to prove this to the world.
BUT the morning of the wedding, I woke up full of a cold. And with my period. I put on my dress and realised that not only could I not bend, I could barely sit without exposing my whole thighs. There would be no way I would be able to take part in the ceilidh. There would be little chance of me doing anything more energetic than standing very still.
Two things happened:
– I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and like my outfit was incredibly ill-judged because my thighs seemed to have grown ten inches in diameter each since I’d last tried this dress on.
– I felt some element of empathy for Victoria Beckham, who does actually just painstakingly stand perfectly still whenever you see her in public. All of a sudden I understood why.
I had no option but to wear the dress and to attempt to rock it, even if I wasn’t feeling it, and hope that the pride that had prompted me to dress the way I’d decided to, wouldn’t lead to a disastrous and dramatic fall…
Fortunately, it didn’t. And although I didn’t ceilidh, I did dance, possibly giving the other guests more than they’d bargained for. I’m 31, happy in my skin, and having a great time.