I imagine most brides spend the months leading up to their wedding dutifully upping their beauty and self-care regimes, watching what they eat and being generally good to themselves in an attempt to ensure they’re their most beautiful on the most photographed day of their entire lives.
By contrast, I spent the months leading up to my own wedding taking only very occasional showers, precisely no exercise and frantically shovelling entire bags of Haribo into my panic-stricken face.
You see, having moved out of our perfectly lovely flat above The Grafton so that our newly-promoted colleague Hidde could move in and take over, and with renovation work on our new flat nowhere near completion, we’d bundled all the possessions we didnt need into storage and began squatting at our new pub The Gipsy Queen. Living and working on a building site and sharing a kitchen and bathroom best described as ‘basic’ with 11 other people was, shall we say, less than ideal.
I was so hyper-stressed, strung out and focused on what needed to be done, that my own wellbeing featured last on a very, very long list. And as an inherent emotional binger, the Haribo-shovelling became a daily ritual (alongside other, more appalling stress-eating behaviour).
Needless to say, at 3 stone heavier than my ‘slim’ weight and 2 stone heavier than even my ‘normal’ weight, by the time my wedding day came around I was the largest I’ve ever been in my life.
So did it ruin the most special day of my life?
I was too busy being deliriously, unequivocally HAPPY. Surrounded by virtually everyone I love in the world and elated by the utter relief that Silly Season was finally over, I was able to marry the most wonderful man I know without a care in the world. I felt so fantastic in it I wore my size 14 Jesus Peiro gown from midday until 7 the following morning. I still have it boxed up at home in all its ripped up, muddied, bourbon-stained glory as a reminder of the most incredible day.
Here we are, having the most. awesome. time. ever.
So now that life has calmed down and we’ve spent a couple of blissful months cosied up into married life, I feel just about ready to try and get healthy again. Bear with me, I can feel some transformation posts coming on (and if I’m in any way successful I promise I’ll try not to be too smug and show-offy about it). Wish me luck.