Dress to Impress

       Sometimes, a dress makes all the difference.

       Even if a girl lives in blue jeans all her life, the famous allure of the wedding dress is not always the hardest thing to push aside.

I met my best friend and MOH Lizzie at College nearly seven years ago during our first English Language lecture. She was wearing jeans, a red jacket and a nifty-looking hat, and I sensed in her a sort of kindred spirit. I sat down next to her, and as Bogie once said, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Since then I’ve seen her in jeans, comfy slacks, pyjama bottoms, miniskirts and going-out dresses. But the first time she came out of the changing room at the bridal shop, a little tear escaped my eye. Wedding dresses are just...different.

I don’t know if you’ve been following the car-crash viewing that is My Big Fat Gypsy Weddings on Channel 4 but the dresses that the young Gypsy wives insist on wearing look like Barbie and the Disney Princesses fighting inside an Eton mess. The cakes are thirty tiers high – some are merely decoys covered in icing – and the decorations look like Christmas in Bel Air. But then, the day after the wedding, the wives start a whole new life: cooking and cleaning for their husbands, not being allowed out without permission, bearing children and doing little else. It’s a very surreal experience – you go from chuckling at seven-foot-wide wedding gowns to wondering how this sort of oppression is still acceptable. It’s as if their day in the spotlight is their wedding day, and they spend the rest of their lives paying it off.

My New Years’ Resolution was to try on a dress, so I took Liz and my darling Mum to the bridal boutique down the road.

If you’ve ever been dress shopping (either for yourself or with a lady), you probably know that there are lots of rules. Here’s the abridged version: not every dress suits every girl. So my plan of action was to try on a range of different styles. I’m not going into details here, mainly because my future husband reads this Blog, and the little devil's itching to know details that I don't wish to pass on.

I’ve worn quite a few dresses in my time, but nothing quite prepares you for the sight of yourself in a wedding dress. I’ve seen other people in them, I’ve seen plenty at the wedding fayres I’ve been to, but it’s nothing like actually wearing one. Unlike any other dress, they’re designed to fit you like an extra layer of skin; they’ve got more layers than an onion and more often than not you need an extra pair or so of hands to help you get into them. It’s all very princess-like.

Luckily I’m not a Gypsy, and Brawny doesn’t expect me to give up my individuality in exchange for a lavish wedding ceremony, but the dress is still symbolic of my transition from single girl to wife. Aside from your wedding, you never wear a dress quite like this ever again (unless Miss Havisham).

And so begins my quest for the perfect wedding gown. Like every other bride, I want to find the one that defines me best; the one that makes everyone’s eyes widen in that silent “Wow!” gesture as I walk down the aisle. But I’m a fussy creature: I don’t know what I want, but I know what I don’t want. Sort of. Wedding dresses have been used many a time as metaphors for finding the perfect mate; you desire something that complements you, fits you in all the right places, emphasises the best parts and skims over any unflattering bits. But Brawny was a lucky find in an unlikely place: the retail equivalent of finding an unworn Vivienne Westwood original at a car boot. Once you’ve found such a rarity, you won’t ever need to look anywhere else.

And that’s essentially what I want for my dress. Wish me luck!

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Everyone, to some extent, is vain.

I'm not saying we're all drowning in our reflections like mini Narcissi. There's a scale of vanity, much like there is a scale for the Piri-Piri sauce at Nando's. Some people are low down on the scale: perhaps they take a little while in the bathroom before a night out, or they will happily take a compliment. That's your kind of everyday, Lemon-and-Herb self-appreciation (we're sticking with the Nando's analogy.) Other people can't pass any shiny surface without gravitating towards it and making sex faces at themselves. Obviously that's the kind of Piri-self-love that causes hot flashes, swelling of the mouth and the runs.

I should begin my story by stressing that it's OK to be happy with yourself: there's nothing wrong with a little pride, in moderation.

I've never much liked my body, especially during the days of unflattering school uniforms. Just when I'd become used to it, puberty hit me like a truck. All my favourite outfits betrayed me as my figure changed, and they had to be exchanged. On top of that, I had a few health issues that required physio and medication. Coupled with good old-fashioned playground bullying, I began to dislike a great deal of my body. My only constant was my hair.

It was thick, long and a treacly brown. Over the years, I'd dyed it pink, purple, blue, green, red and a horrible straw blonde when I'd accidentally fallen asleep with lightener in it. Although I'd used and abused it, it faithfully grew back.

I don’t know about you, but I like follow a daily routine: I get up, wash my hair, have breakfast and plan my day. Except one recent morning, when I went to dry my hair, something odd happened. My hairdryer malfunctioned, and set fire to my head.

I fled to the bathroom, flinging the nearest thing (a cardigan) over my head. I crouched on the bathroom floor until I heard the sizzling stop. As I stood up to look in the mirror, little black flakes that were once my fringe fluttered down like dreadful snow.

Ever heard the phrase "...And then I lost it"? That's exactly what I did. I panicked. I tried phoning my Dad and getting a colleague instead, then I tried Brawny (who was at work) in desperation, before finally speaking to my brother, and probably not making much sense.

Afterwards, I decided I'd better check myself over just in case adrenaline was hiding any pain. My head seemed fine, but the fringe and entire right side had matted together. I tried to brush it through but to my horror the hair just crumbled into nothing. I grabbed the scissors and began hacking off any dead, blackened bits.

It turned out that my answerphone message had made so little sense that Brawny had come home early from work. As he checked me over, Mum rang – Xel had filled her in. Together, the three of us took an emergency trip to my hairdresser’s.

While the hairdresser did her very best to turn my mangled mane into a fashionable crop-cut, I avoided the mirror. Along with my hair, my sense of self had been badly damaged. Though it’d been all the colours of the rainbow, I’d never had hair this short. Admittedly, I had considered hacking it all off in the name of charity (instead I opted to mangle my name so it now resembles an explosion at Webster’s printing press). Would it have felt so bad if I’d decided to cut it? Maybe not, but there’s a difference between “Hmm, shall I cut my hair?” and “Holy shitcaskets, my head is ON FIRE.”

Snap forward a few weeks and I’m in a wig boutique, trying on a bevy of different styles with my glossy posse: Mum, my second mum Joy and Rachel, who I’ve known for years (and have had a secret hair envy of ever since Brownies). I find a gorgeous auburn wig which looks just like a longer version of my old hair, and I’m waltzing out of the shop with the spring back in my step.

You can pretend to be as self-assured and non-superficial as you like, but when something changes so suddenly and so out of your control, you can’t predict how you’ll react. I know I’d still love Brawny if it’d been his hair that caught fire, but it would’ve taken a few days to get used to the new look. Thankfully it was just hair, which grows back over time - I’ve been in relationships where someone’s personality has gradually changed, and the end result was much more shocking than any kind of change in appearance.

Maybe losing a chunk of hair was actually a blessing in disguise. Though I’m now used to my crop, I’ve been trying on wedding dresses* with my wig on, but that’s simply because having temporarily longer hair has made me reconsider my style options – I’d previously wanted to keep my short bob right up until W-Day and I’ve now decided to opt for a versatile longer ‘do. I’d never have thought of that if I hadn’t suddenly found the need to wear a wig.

It has been said that “character is what you are in the dark”. Nobody can help making judgements based on appearance – I’d been afraid that having less hair would make me less feminine, yet I still like flowers, baking, and wearing dresses. I’m the same person I was before I started drying my hair that day; I just come in slightly different packaging now. Why should I have worried about being treated differently?

I wouldn’t recommend burning something off to learn the value of this lesson, but maybe it’s a good idea to survey the spicy scale of vanity now and again just to find out where you are. I will be doing so every time I look in the mirror, and figuring out if I need to adjust my palate accordingly.

Oh, and just for kicks, here’s a little chart of how my looks changed.

A Marriage, not just a Wedding

Hello there, readers of LADYBRIDE - it's Brawny (the groom-to-be) here once again. Sorry for the lack of contributions - I've had quite a lot on recently, both good and bad.

As you may remember from my earlier post, one of my main responsibilities with the wedding is the budget, as maths is one of my strong points. (I can add two numbers together and get the correct result almost every time!) However, Neety and I have recently encountered some financial issues, which has led to our savings being depleted, leaving us with less in place for the wedding than we had hoped we would have at this point.

For a little while, therefore, I've been worrying about the financial implications of the day, and consequentially I've been focusing a little less on the details of the ceremony than I would have liked. But do you know what? Today, after arriving back from a week's holiday, Neety said something that really made me smile, and made me realise that we'll be fine, whatever happens. It happened while a very whiny girl was on a Don't tell the Bride: Greatest Moments, (Don't tell the Bride is a BBC production which has been a common fixture in our "So Bad it's Good" TV selection since before we got engaged), and Neety happened to state quite simply; "She wants a wedding. Not a marriage." I looked over to her, smiling, and she continued. "Whereas I want a marriage. No matter what else happens, I want a marriage." 

And so do I. And I know it may sound corny, but in a way, that lifted the burden from my shoulders a little. I don't mean for a second that I won't keep trying to save as much money as possible to make our day as special as we can. But it's not the be-all and end-all. Certain aspects of the day have been dealt with and paid for, and there's lots more to go. But you know what? We'll do what we can, and what we can't, we'll do without. Because at the end of the day, it's just one day. One very special day, I grant you, but it's the special day that starts the rest of our lives together. And that's the most special part of all.

Don't get me wrong, if any of you have any wonderful budget-saving or money-raising ideas, then please do let us know. And it will be the greatest day of my life. But I need to worry about the money slightly less, and help arrange the details slightly more.

I don't know if any of you readers are planning your own weddings. But if you are? Take my advice. Whatever your budget is, then work with it - don't let it work against you. Because as long as you have the partner that you want to spend the rest of your life with, everything else is optional. (Even clothes, although I personally wouldn't recommend a naked wedding!)

Next time .... I don't know, because I'm not the regular writer of this blog. So I'm going to take a shot in the dark and suggest that the next post will be a witty, funny and from-the-heart piece by my beautiful Bride-to-Be.

The Wide Bride Strikes Back

        It’s that time again, readers. I’ve put on my sweatpants, poured myself a cold glass of orange squash and pulled up my legwarmers. I’m all ready to get warmed up and jiggle about in front of my lounge windows so I can fit into a nice white dress. Thank goodness this isn’t a video blog.

        Since the workouts I covered in last week’s blog were mostly aerobic, I decided to seek out something different. My search took me to the local discount video store, a veritable fitness vid treasure trove.

        First up - THE PUSSYCAT DOLLS WORKOUT

(Under £5 online/HMV)

        Yes, I know. Just hear me out.

Although the title of this DVD contains the words ‘pussycat’ and ‘dolls’, like so many merchandised DVDs, the glitzy gyrating girl-posse are barely featured. Instead, the workouts are helmed by Robin Antin, choreographer and the brains behind the PCD outfit.

Since this DVD came out relatively early in the group’s career (I understand there is now a sequel), the routines cover two songs: ‘Don’t Cha’ and ‘Buttons’. In a nutshell, these could be re-titled “Up-Tempo Boastful Lead Single” and “Gritty Bhangra-Styled Gyrate-o-fest”. The workouts, or ‘routines’ are broken down into a practice and performance run of each song, with a bonus ‘Burlesque’ section in the middle.

The first routine covers ‘Up-Temp’… sorry, ‘Don’t Cha’. Robin takes you through the moves one step at a time, stopping to recap the whole routine whenever you learn a new move. The collection of moves spans familiar dance/aerobics standards such as the lunge and box steps, and before you know it you’ve built up a fluid eight-bar dance routine. Both routines are tough yet rewarding, and your heart is constantly pumping. My face is flushing too, and not just because I’m hot – as you’d expect from a group named ‘Pussycat Dolls’, some of the moves are quite sultry!

For the Burlesque section in the middle, you’ll need a feather boa, a scarf, or a tie. All of the moves in this section involve flinging your prop around (please, I'll make the jokes) so if you’re pushed for space, take a moment to move all breakable trinkets out of the way. This section took a little more skill as well as a dollop of sauciness - if you’re easily embarrassed or have voyeuristic neighbours, perhaps skip this.

GOOD: It’s fun, and it gets you moving in ways you probably hadn’t encountered before. As it’s dance-based, you need a fair amount of co-ordination and flexibility, but because the routine is short and repeated so often, you’ll pick most of it up.

BAD: At one point, Robin suggests you wear high heels during your workout – I didn’t, simply because it seemed very dangerous! The moves get progressively trickier, requiring more agility and stamina so you might end up only using parts of the video.

UGLY: If you really can’t stand the Pussycat Dolls, you should know better than to buy this video (even though they’re barely in it).

THE LOWDOWN: It’s a good workout to have in your collection, simply because it provides a nice change from aerobics. The burlesque moves are fun and flirty, and the routines are easy to pick up. However, since the routines are so short (for example, the ‘Don’t Cha’ routine is one chorus long) you may get bored. Keep it on your shelf, but buy something else to go with it too.

Next up – FAME! THE WORKOUT

(Less than £5 online/Amazon.com)

I like musical theatre (big surprise), so I was delighted to find this DVD. In case you’re not familiar with the concept of Fame, a group of rag-tag misfits get a scholarship to a performing arts school and go on to achieve varying amounts of success. So how would this translate into a fitness video? Well, you’d assume there’d be a lot of dancing.

You’d be right: there are a LOT of dancers. If they’re not gyrating behind daft-named instructor K9 (no, not this one), they’re loitering dead-eyed in the background, like awkwardly posed shop mannequins. It’s a bit off-putting.

I’m going to be honest: I spent no more than ten minutes on this video. The warm up was comprehensive, until it got to the point where I had to lower myself to the ground to stretch – I knew there and then that it wasn’t going to happen without an accident occurring.

The next sections followed the same mould as the Pussycat Dolls’ videos: putting together a routine, and then performing it. Unlike PCD however, suddenly I was launched into moves with barely any explanation. They were too quick and too close together, and to make any sense of them I’d have had to pause the DVD and rewind it every five seconds. I struggled on for about five minutes, but after repeatedly kicking myself in the shin and swearing, I had to give up.

GOOD: It boasts an impressive repertoire of moves, including a stretching and ballet section I spotted in the intro that might have been good if I’d managed to get there.

BAD: Definitely not for anyone who isn’t already a very competent dancer, to the point where injury might occur.

UGLY: It was kind of a waste of money for me. Routines went by too quickly, and I just couldn't co-ordinate myself quickly enough. Admittedly, the amount of quizzical and annoyed expressions I pulled probably qualified as a facial muscles workout.

THE LOWDOWN: I can’t state enough – NOT A BEGINNER’S DVD. If you want to buy it and keep it back then feel free, but believe me when I say you need to be a very competent and flexible dancer to feel the benefit of this video.

And finally…THE GODDESS WORKOUT: BELLYDANCING 

(Under £3 online/Amazon.com)

“Bellydancing?” I said to myself when I found this DVD. “Heh, my belly already dances when I run, thanks very much. I’ll give this a miss.”

“Go on,” said another voice in my head. “Give it a go. What have you got to lose – except about three stone?”

Once I’d finished creeping out the other people in the store by talking to myself in silly voices, I bit the bullet and bought the DVD.

At home, the doubt crept in again. With a name like The Goddess Workout and led by a woman called Dolphina, I was afraid it would be new-agey and fluffy, more about chakras than cardio. As the DVD started up, I was somewhat relieved to see it was set in a quiet studio with no backup dancers.

As we started warming up, I discovered muscles that I didn’t even know I had. Dolphina told me to clear my mind and make the workout an extension of ‘me time’. Fluffy as that sounded, I found that the more relaxed I was the easier it was to do the moves. I have limited movement in one of my hips, but she explained that a lot of people are naturally lop-sided and thus may find it easier to flex one side than the other.

Unless you’d tried it before, you wouldn’t think that bellydancing could work up a sweat and get your heart racing, but it really did. The workout loosened up my normally stiff back and hips, making the afternoon walk I went on later that day a lot easier. It was also a lot of fun! I hadn’t yet encountered a workout that I enjoyed so much. I kept going for 35 minutes, which seemed to go past in a heartbeat.

GOOD: Really fun, moves are easy and well explained. Dolphina (probably a pseudonym) is a pleasant instructor and puts together easy routines. You’ll feel the benefit of this workout.

BAD: Much like the Pussycat Dolls workout, you’ll know it’s not your sort of thing just by looking at the cover…but then, look how wrong my judgment of it was!

UGLY: I honestly can’t think of anything to put here.

THE LOWDOWN: If you’re looking for something different in a workout, try this. It works out the whole body as well as being relaxing at times. 

I feel I should point out that after a fortnight of trying these workouts at least once a day teamed with sensible eating, I've lost a surprising 9lbs. After the next Wide Bride installment, I'll be doing a roundup of my healthy eating plan as well as a guide to putting together a realistic workout regime. If you've found a fitness video you want me to try, leave it in the comments below - no challenge too ridiculous!  

Please note: Again, I didn't do all of these in one afternoon, and you shouldn't either. You should also consult your doctor before trying out any strenuous activity, changing your diet, or attempting homemade liposuction with a Henry hoover, a steak knife and a binbag. If they say yes to that, for the love of Aisha, change doctors.