WARNING: Do not even attempt to read this article if you are male. Just don’t bother.
THE search is on. It is traumatic, it is all-consuming, it is becoming unbearable.
There is no hope for me now, none.
It all started many years ago when a young man met a young girl and they fell in love. Queue many moons later and they are to wed.
Who knew their union would cause me such grief, who knew? Not I.
Yes, I speak of my cousin Paddy’s wedding to his bride-to-be, Avea.
It is this September and I must ask...did they even consider me in this entire equation? Obviously not.
Like hello? What am I going to f**king wear? So far my options are a black bin bag. Or alternatively, if I’m feeling a bit frisky, a white bin bag, which is see-through from certain angles.
Buying a dress for a wedding is akin to being asked to pick out your own coffin, it is practically suicide. This is survival of the fashion fittest.
It is an incredibly difficult purchase to make – I simply can’t stress how difficult it is. Even granny has got in on the game.
Word on the street is that she has found her outfit but wants to out-glam any other grannies that might be making an appearance on the big day.
With this in mind, I believe she was seen skulking into a local jewellers last week.
Apparently, she told them she wanted to wear a killer pair of earrings to her grandson’s wedding and demanded there and then that they pierce her ears.
Upon closer inspection by the ear-piercing people, granny, who is 70-odd, was told that she actually already had holes in her ears.
It was at that moment she recalled an ear-piercing incident 50 something years ago she just forgot about it.
Surely, when one’s granny is far more on top of her style game than you are yourself, the end result can only mean trouble.
To date, there have been three disastrous dances with dresses, each one ending in me not getting the dress.
The first time the dress was too small (shock bloody horror), the second time – the dress was sold out and the third time – the dress was not “dressy” enough, if you know what I mean.
At this stage, I may just glue some curtains to my body on the morning of the wedding.
Yes, yes, the argument could be made that I should try harder to actually find a dress but to be perfectly honest, I’m far too busy being in the depths of despair to even consider launching a full search.
I believe I am hampered by a fear of the unknown. Who knows what might happen to me in those shops? Who knows?
I could end up spending thousands (I don’t have thousands, of course, that word is simply being used for dramatic effect) on a dress which is simply not suitable.
That is presuming I find a dress and of course, with just a month to the event the likelihood is that I won’t. That’s not being dramatic, that’s being realistic.
I’ll surely resort to my old tactic of panic buying which, essentially, results in me purchasing several mediocre dresses and then deciding on the morning of the wedding which one I’ll wear.
I’ll then spend the rest of the day wishing I had worn another dress. It’s a cycle. Also I happen to hold the firm belief that I will definitely lose ten pounds between now and then, which is also hindering my progress.
Should I purchase a dress which is a size too small, thereby forcing myself to diet so I can fit into it, or, do I buy a dress to fit my current frame, with it being too big on the day itself (and it will be too big, because I’m going to lose ten pounds between now and then).
Honestly, with such worries, I don’t know how I get out of bed in the morning.