Undressed

With my wedding to Paul only 39 days away, life has been crazy busy gettin' ur done, and not leaving things to the last minute (as per my usual live-on-the-edge procrastination style). I've had nightmares of showing up at the ceremony and the Justice of the Peace isn't there because we forgot to call her. Or, forgetting to get the marriage license and then not being able to tie the knot. Very Freudian I'm sure.

My wedding dress finally arrived. I couldn't sleep a wink the night before, I was so anxious to see my dress for the first time. Touch it. Wear it. OMG would it even fit?

I took Paul's daughter Hannah (age 9) with me for the unveiling, a nice step-mother step-daughter bonding moment. I unzipped the garmet bag, and got all goose-bumpy. The dress is the perfect medium shade of ivory to match my redheaded complexion. I slipped my feet into the dress, pulled it up to my chest, zipped it up. It was...too big. Ok, I can deal with that. After all, that's why God invented tailors. I turned around to face the mirror. And...nothing. I thought this moment would make me cry or make me feel "this is THE dress" or something, anything. All I felt was slightly underwhelmed. Which is NOT the feeling you want to have when trying on your [2nd and last] wedding dress.

I went out to the waiting room to show Hannah. Surely she would see something I was missing, and reassure me the dress was DDG and I looked radiant. All my doubts were placed in the hands of a 9 year-old girl.

Me: "What do you think Hannah?"
Hannah: "Uh................................."

It's too late to order another dress. So, I decided to focus on the positives of the dress - makes me look tall and lanky with curves in all the right spots. And the color looks amazing on me if I do say so myself (well somebody's got to!).

Besides, it's all about the accessories. They make an outfit. Right? I'll pretend I didn't hear that.

Paul tried to smooth things over by telling me I'd look radiant in anything. Uh huh. What a GUY thing to say. Some smuck probably told his bride-to-be she'd look good in this outfit too (see right).

Oh bloody hell.

Oy!

After an action-packed weekend which included my Toyota Corolla receiving a lap dance from a Hummer on Sunday (so not cool), I fell asleep exhausted last night.

This morning at work I get a call from my mother.

Mum: "How come I'm hearing that you were in a car accident from Facebook?"

How can one woman inject such guilt into one simple question? I swear I have Jewish relatives somewhere. And the way she said "Facebook" like it was a person, a person who I told a secret too. I remember when she used to say the same thing, but about my blog. Seriously, my mom is the only one I know who could be jealous of a non-entity.

To maintain my good-daughter status, I offered to call my mom more often with updates on my life, so she wouldn't have to read it second-hand from a social networking site.

And true-to-form I called her that very evening with an "update" - a job interview for a swanky new position!

Me: "Hi Mum, just calling you with an update on my life since this morning."
Mum: "Ok, but make it quick. I'm on my way to a dinner party."

I can't win.

WTF Friday

Today I checked myself out in the mirror in our office bathroom (typical). And I realized WTF was I thinking when I got myself dressed this morning (untypical)? My outfit du jour is...colorful (think lilac, mint green, cream AND coral) if not a tad bit frumpy in a covers-too-much-of-me kind of way. When I'm much more of a show-off-an-asset kind of girl. Oddly enough, Paul had given it his approval, wanting us to be late for work so he could show me how much he liked it. Humph! Men!

It doesn't help matters that I've forgotten my glasses somewhere and can barely see a thing on my PC screen. Actually, maybe that could be my defense for my outfit. Not that my coworkers would say anything [to my face].

Unfortunately the receptionist has just informed me that my 1 o'clock appointment (which I completely completely forgot about) is here to see me. And 15 minutes early at that. How long does it take to make a paperclip dress?

Friday 4:30 Count-down

I'm trying not to think of my "to do" list for the weekend. One thing is crossed off - wedding invitations are in the mail! Mostly. Well, more like 2/3s but whatever. I need to count small victories when I can. Not like calories. But definitely like glasses of wine. Is it 4:30 pm yet? Geesh.

Pubic Enemy Number 1

I would really like to know who the crotch Sasquatch is at my office. And why, oh why, the follicle offender keeps leaving dark curlies lounging about on the one-and-only washroom toilet seat.

I will find you anti-bush whacker. And when I do...your ass is waxed.

Age Ain't Nothing But A Number

Another day, another birthday bringing me ever so closer to 40. And wrinkles. And gravity.

Thirty-three sounds like an odd year. Thirty-two was so good. Like here, here, here too, and who could forget here. But not so much here, or arguably here.

Can thirty-three really top it?

I skipped out of the office this afternoon to grab some much needed caffine. Walking down the side walk I was beginning to wonder when I'd start to lose my sexy and youthful magic. Especially with my impending nuptials. Every woman ages at least 5 years at the altar.

My thoughts were interrupted by a man, who tripped walking across the street. Apparently multitasking isn't his thing because he was too busy rubbernecking at yours truly to focus on unimportant things like staying vertical. He tried to cover his tracks and act "cool" like he meant to trip. Uh huh.

Ok, that made me feel better.

I waited in line at "Sounds like Jim Nortons" for my coffee. The guy in front me ordered his iced cappuccino, and gave me the once down, once up dealy. Then he smiled and said "hellllllo". Maybe I'm paraphrasing - there might have been less L's in that hello but I'm pretty sure I got the meaning. Now I was getting cocky. I smiled the "I'm trying to be polite but not even in your dreams" look.

Ok, that made me feel better. And like I needed a shower. But better.

On the way back to my office, a construction worker called out "Hey baby, where'd you get a fine body like THAT?" Without missing a beat, I scoffed "Jillian Michaels." I could hear him asking one of his buddies whether Jillan Michaels was the name of a local gym.

Ha! Still got the magic.

What A Difference A Letter Makes

If you work in an office chances are your fingers fly across the keyboard. You're so good (and by "you're" I mean, me) that you don't even stop and think about what you're doing.

Today, I decided to check out MSN.com for all the lastest news. After all, a girl in the know is...um, better than two in the bush. Or something like that.

Unfortunately, instead of typing MSN.com, I typed MEN.com. Now folks, let me tell you - that's a whole OTHER website. And you're going to have a hard time explaining that to Human Resources (and by "you're" I mean, me).

In unrelated news...this is my 250th post!

Today's Post Is Brought to You By The Letter "V" As In...(Don't Make Me Say It!)

Are you trying to get in shape for a public event? Like, um, say a wedding, or a class reunion, or a Britney Spears concert?

Me too! And to help me in my feat, I picked up all three of the new Jillian Michaels workout DVDs. If this chick can whip the Biggest Loser contestants into shape, imagine what's in store for little old young me? Fab-u-lous-ness.

I did my first workout last night and learned a very valuable lesson. FYI...

1 piece of New York cheesecake + 1 Jillian Michaels Banish Fat Boost Metabolism DVD = vomit

I never was one for math problems. But Jillian, you just might want to add this disclaimer to your DVD intro.

Climb Every Mountain

In between getting ready for work this morning, scarfing down breakfast coffee, making the bed, and emptying the dishwasher...

I managed to drag an over-flowing laundry basket down the hallway to the top of the stairs, hoping that Paul would take the hint, and carry it down to the laundry room (aka the room where things go, but never return).

Paul: "Honey, I think the laundry monster came by and pooped in our hallway."

Ugh.