In the post here, I described my recent bridesmaid dress shopping experience in which I ordered a size that I knew was too small–by one inch. Yesterday, I picked up the dress and tried it on, and it is, in fact, not too small by one inch. Oh, no. It is not even too small by two inches, which is what I estimated yesterday. I just donned the dress again, and it’s too small by at least three inches. As in the left side of the zipper is three inches away from the right at the widest part of my back.
And so we begin–a four-month crusade to bust the bulge, fight the flab, pulverize the pudge…you get the picture. I started with a fast-paced three miles on the elliptical today, and while I felt amazing afterward, I am dreading spending that much time in the gym every.single.day. Will I grow to love it? I can only hope.
The good news is that the dress was not extremely pricey, so I can buy a replacement in the absolute worst case scenario. But with Jon’s uncertain job situation and with a zillion and one expenses that came up in the last few weeks (busted car, tuition, books, etc.), the last thing I want to do is spend more money. Not to mention, that the larger dress is already too big on me. If I get halfway to my goal and lose 1.5 inches, I’ll be swimming in it and my choice will either be to drown in a dress or look like a stuffed sausage. In other words, I HAVE to do this.
Assuming I do shrink by three inches in the next 120 days, I will owe the bride and groom–my brother-in-law and future sister-in-law–my undying gratitude for inviting me to stand up in the wedding, inadvertently giving me some serious motivation.
Wish me luck! And please don’t invite me over for pizza in the next 120 days. It’s (one of) my (many, many) weakness(es). With lots of sweat, extreme dedication and gobs of luck, I will be wearing this in the size I’ve already ordered on May 14.