Wedding Dress/Cars/Gym
Apr. 22nd, 2012 11:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helblingUpdate like an updatey thing.
So, on the wedding front, I have found and ordered my wedding dress. I'm quite happy to classify my time looking through wedding boutiques as some of the most demoralising shopping of my life.
Why?
Well, my size.
I am a size (UK) 16. Now, according to everywhere I spoke to, this is supposed to be a 'normal' size. The upper end of 'normal', yes, but still within that range - plus sizes start at, at the lowest, 18 y'see, so the attitude of every bridal boutique I spoke to was to come on in, they'd definitely be the place for me.
Aha. Funny.
Not.
I didn't go to a single place that had sample sizes that were above a size 12. For anyone interested in women's sizes, there's quite a gap between a 12 and a 16.
So, could I fit into any of those dresses?
Certainly not to do them up, I bloody couldn't. And often the shop assistants wouldn't even bother to hold the backs up so I could see how it should fit once they were on me and gaping. A couple of the dresses, the largest size they had them in was a 10 (!!) and so their version of me 'trying them on' was to hold them up to me.
Now, please tell me, which of you, out there, would be happy to drop the thousands of pounds these women were asking on a dress they couldn't even try on??
Now, I can't say I wouldn't mind if these places had just told me they couldn't cater for a size 16, given a 16 is actually the average dress size worn in the UK today - it means these places are arsing elitest and need to get over themselves and accept us fatter-than-slim-but-apparently-not-quite-fat-enough folk have money to spend on wedding dresses as well, and it'll pay their wages just as well as any other money, but what, I think, was actually worse, was them pretending I was someone they could cater to, and then spend my time and effort doing nothing more productive than decreasing my morale.
Ye-ah. I'm sure that'll make me lose the weight, ladies. It won't be counter productive, at all!
So, on a whim, Mum and I went to this 'plus sized bride' place down in Weston. Which I WASN'T supposed to be using, their sample sizes started at a 20. Resulantly, every dress I tried on was at least a little gape-y, if not swimming on me.
BUT, I found the dress I want. Probably because I was in an environment where I didn't feel hideously judged for my size, where shit did do up (it's a lot easier to hold something to control the extra fabric than it is to squeeze into something too small for you) and where the assistant, in contrast to a lot of others, was extremely friendly and accomodating. A lot of the others - and I couldn't help but feel this was a rule that was 'brought in' the second they saw me - would put a limit on the time and number of dresses I could try. "You! You have half an hour, and 4 dresses!"
Talk about shutting down your options.
Oh, and the ironic thing? The dress I ended up ordering? The smallest size it comes in is an 18. So when it gets here, in 14-16 weeks, it's going to have to be taken in.
Suck on that, judgey-boutique-douches.
Doug and I's appaulling luck with cars has struck again. His has been coughing an awful lot over the winter, and we figured it was the battery.
We still figured it was the battery when one morning, regardless of the jump start we tried to give it, etc, it wouldn't start.
Nope, says the tow guy - it's your glow plugs.
Nope, says the garage - the glow plugs test fine; it's the power relays to the plugs, and oh, they've also fried the starter motor.
Here, says I, use my car while I'm off for a long weekend, as yours is a bit fried.
Oops, says Doug, it would appear your car no longer has 5th gear.
Thank you very much for all the custom says the hire car place.
Ah, says the garage. It would appear your 5th gear actually fell off and is lying somewhere down the M4. New gearbox needed.
Buggeritall, says I.
Flo, bless him, doesn't say a word, just gives me that look and lets me sleep in his spare room.
The gearbox is due to be delivered tomorrow morning. We hope - I've only spoken to the guy about it over the phone, and don't have anything down on paper, so I'll be packing another week's worth of clothing today to be taken into Bath by Doug tomorrow to SR if my worst-case-scenario of the gearbox isn't delivered or the garage can't fit it that same day as they promised they would comes true. It's costing me less than a quarter of what a new one would though, so provided it does get here and work, I can't complain too hard...Although I am still going to be broke for quite a while, and our wedding budget has just taken a fairly significant pounding, thanks to the work needing to be done on both cars - this means I might need to rethink things like favors, or entertainment. Or flowers.
*sigh* Fuckitall, really.
I've got a personal trainer at the gym, courtesy of my parents who, I swear, worry about my weight more than I do - after all these years, I've got a lot of practise at not taking it personally.
But yes, had my second session on Friday. Having had my first on Thursday, which was a mistake. In future, there'll be at least a day or so inbetween them, but 2 on the trot might not have been so bad, had I not been handed over to the more 'aggressive' of the trainers they had there, who took one look at the schedule the original dude had drawn up, and made this noise: 'Pfffffft!'
She upped, and in some cases doubled, the number of reps I was expected to do on pretty much everything, and in a lot of them saw I wan't using my hands (or rather, had whatever I was balancing with in some sort of death grip) added curls with freeweights to them.
I was late to work, because the normal 20-min walk from the gym to work took me 35, on account of my legs wouldn't stop wobbling.
Today, in the name of keeping it up, I'm actually considering going for a jog.
Oh, wow, are my feet not going to thank me.
I'm hoping the rest of my body will when we go again on Tuesday, when, with any luck, I won't die quite so hard.
So, on the wedding front, I have found and ordered my wedding dress. I'm quite happy to classify my time looking through wedding boutiques as some of the most demoralising shopping of my life.
Why?
Well, my size.
I am a size (UK) 16. Now, according to everywhere I spoke to, this is supposed to be a 'normal' size. The upper end of 'normal', yes, but still within that range - plus sizes start at, at the lowest, 18 y'see, so the attitude of every bridal boutique I spoke to was to come on in, they'd definitely be the place for me.
Aha. Funny.
Not.
I didn't go to a single place that had sample sizes that were above a size 12. For anyone interested in women's sizes, there's quite a gap between a 12 and a 16.
So, could I fit into any of those dresses?
Certainly not to do them up, I bloody couldn't. And often the shop assistants wouldn't even bother to hold the backs up so I could see how it should fit once they were on me and gaping. A couple of the dresses, the largest size they had them in was a 10 (!!) and so their version of me 'trying them on' was to hold them up to me.
Now, please tell me, which of you, out there, would be happy to drop the thousands of pounds these women were asking on a dress they couldn't even try on??
Now, I can't say I wouldn't mind if these places had just told me they couldn't cater for a size 16, given a 16 is actually the average dress size worn in the UK today - it means these places are arsing elitest and need to get over themselves and accept us fatter-than-slim-but-apparently-not-quite-fat-enough folk have money to spend on wedding dresses as well, and it'll pay their wages just as well as any other money, but what, I think, was actually worse, was them pretending I was someone they could cater to, and then spend my time and effort doing nothing more productive than decreasing my morale.
Ye-ah. I'm sure that'll make me lose the weight, ladies. It won't be counter productive, at all!
So, on a whim, Mum and I went to this 'plus sized bride' place down in Weston. Which I WASN'T supposed to be using, their sample sizes started at a 20. Resulantly, every dress I tried on was at least a little gape-y, if not swimming on me.
BUT, I found the dress I want. Probably because I was in an environment where I didn't feel hideously judged for my size, where shit did do up (it's a lot easier to hold something to control the extra fabric than it is to squeeze into something too small for you) and where the assistant, in contrast to a lot of others, was extremely friendly and accomodating. A lot of the others - and I couldn't help but feel this was a rule that was 'brought in' the second they saw me - would put a limit on the time and number of dresses I could try. "You! You have half an hour, and 4 dresses!"
Talk about shutting down your options.
Oh, and the ironic thing? The dress I ended up ordering? The smallest size it comes in is an 18. So when it gets here, in 14-16 weeks, it's going to have to be taken in.
Suck on that, judgey-boutique-douches.
Doug and I's appaulling luck with cars has struck again. His has been coughing an awful lot over the winter, and we figured it was the battery.
We still figured it was the battery when one morning, regardless of the jump start we tried to give it, etc, it wouldn't start.
Nope, says the tow guy - it's your glow plugs.
Nope, says the garage - the glow plugs test fine; it's the power relays to the plugs, and oh, they've also fried the starter motor.
Here, says I, use my car while I'm off for a long weekend, as yours is a bit fried.
Oops, says Doug, it would appear your car no longer has 5th gear.
Thank you very much for all the custom says the hire car place.
Ah, says the garage. It would appear your 5th gear actually fell off and is lying somewhere down the M4. New gearbox needed.
Buggeritall, says I.
Flo, bless him, doesn't say a word, just gives me that look and lets me sleep in his spare room.
The gearbox is due to be delivered tomorrow morning. We hope - I've only spoken to the guy about it over the phone, and don't have anything down on paper, so I'll be packing another week's worth of clothing today to be taken into Bath by Doug tomorrow to SR if my worst-case-scenario of the gearbox isn't delivered or the garage can't fit it that same day as they promised they would comes true. It's costing me less than a quarter of what a new one would though, so provided it does get here and work, I can't complain too hard...Although I am still going to be broke for quite a while, and our wedding budget has just taken a fairly significant pounding, thanks to the work needing to be done on both cars - this means I might need to rethink things like favors, or entertainment. Or flowers.
*sigh* Fuckitall, really.
I've got a personal trainer at the gym, courtesy of my parents who, I swear, worry about my weight more than I do - after all these years, I've got a lot of practise at not taking it personally.
But yes, had my second session on Friday. Having had my first on Thursday, which was a mistake. In future, there'll be at least a day or so inbetween them, but 2 on the trot might not have been so bad, had I not been handed over to the more 'aggressive' of the trainers they had there, who took one look at the schedule the original dude had drawn up, and made this noise: 'Pfffffft!'
She upped, and in some cases doubled, the number of reps I was expected to do on pretty much everything, and in a lot of them saw I wan't using my hands (or rather, had whatever I was balancing with in some sort of death grip) added curls with freeweights to them.
I was late to work, because the normal 20-min walk from the gym to work took me 35, on account of my legs wouldn't stop wobbling.
Today, in the name of keeping it up, I'm actually considering going for a jog.
Oh, wow, are my feet not going to thank me.
I'm hoping the rest of my body will when we go again on Tuesday, when, with any luck, I won't die quite so hard.
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no subject
Date: 2012-04-22 10:57 am (UTC)wooooo dress!! huzzah!
The original dress I got was available in the shop in ALL THE SIZES!!!! so I really feel you on that one. Mr Maternity dress was too- though the rest were sample size dresses.
I really think bridal shops are missing a beat there, I mean I know that some women are a size 8 and will therefore swim in a size 12- but a variety of sizes for the samples would work.
buggerit indeed you seem to have teh worst luck with cars!
hugs from sweden
no subject
Date: 2012-04-22 12:39 pm (UTC)Really glad you found one you like though. Can't wait to see it! :)