The Anti-Bride

I wouldn’t necessarily say that I am the Anti-Bride… but I kinda feel like I’m not as giddy about the whole being-a-bride thing.

A few points to ponder as we close in on our departure from Seoul:

1. My soon-to-be sister-in-law (wow, way too many hyphens there) sent me THREE bride/wedding mags. There are well over a thousand dresses in them. I liked four. Maybe five, and three of those are for my bride’s maids. The fiancée says it’s because I am picky. That may well be true, but still… hello?! Where are my girly genes?

2. My aunt is helping plan our honeymoon. And it’s going to be an amazing and romantic one. But, I’ve missed two online “appointments” with her to really hash out the details. Granted, the honeymoon is about a year away, but still. . .

3. I’m all over the green and purple motif, but I still have no real clue what it will include. I even build an inspiration board on Etsy. Seriously, too many options don’t help me. Lovely to look at though.

4. Finally, that whole Royal Wedding business. My mom  in Albuquerque got up at 2am to watch, and I really thought it had been on Tuesday (until I found out otherwise on Thursday). So, last night, my adorable mother and I skyped about the wedding. I didn’t even watch the ceremony because I was fiddling with etsy. I eventually tuned in onBBC and found the processional a bit anticlimactic. I wasn’t gaga over Catherine’s (Duchess of Cambridge) dress. I mean, it’s lovely and wedding-y…but meh. Even my fiancée was impressed with the carriages and regalia, not me…not so much.

Anyhow, this all kinda makes me sad.

Squeezing In…

So, as most of you who know me… know… I have been struggling with my weight for years… decades even. And while the numbers on the scale fluctuate weekly, in my mind I am constantly battling myself.

Living in a foreign country, albeit a very healthy-eating one, and working (read, sitting on my butt) for 9ish hours a day has not helped me drop the weight. I have, actually, packed them on… culture shock (both Korean culture and work culture) has resulted in my desperate need to conserve the clothes I have.

When you’re over weight in a country where you don’t speak or read the language, in a country where the average size of women is about a 4, it’s common sense to write home, ask for staples like big-girl clothes from the the big-girl stores. But, when you only have one pair of jeans (because you’re an idiot and only asked for one pair) it’s a bit difficult not to wear the heck out of them… gaping holes be damned, I’m wearing my jeans!

A few months back, I decided that gaping holes in my jeans was not so great, so I ordered three pairs of jeans from L.L. Bean. While the hip measurements were a tad bigger than the hip measurement of my holy jeans, the waist was a tad smaller. This, due to the fack that Torrid is targeting 20-30 somethings, and the Bean leans toward the older crowd.

When I got my three pairs, even with their smaller waists (I figures that the Torrid jeans were a bit bigger than I needed in that area, so the smaller dimensions would actually be JUST right) I was excited. Until I tried them on… or rather, until I tried to try them on. So I had three pairs of jeans that if I tried REALLY hard, I could get them buckled… but I would not be able to undo them for the whole day. And I would lose a little bit of feeling in my lower extremities. And I would have a little bit of a hard time breathing. Sooo, they were folded up nicely and placed in my armoire and left alone.

Fast forward. Jason proposed to me on February 12 atop the Seoul Tower. Damnit, I need to lose weight for my wedding!

That being said, I still find it difficult to find my motivation. I’m more interested in counting down our time in Seoul, planning our move, watching Dr. Who. But in the back of my mind… it’s there. Tamara (Tammy-as I tend to refer to my nickname) you need to get serious. And I sporadically get serious.

I’m not condoning this sort of dieting. I have every intention of rejoining my belovedDefined Fitness when I get home and hiking the foot hills which are conveniently located a mere 1-2 miles from my front door. I will eat better. For now, I’m lazy and lose my focus.


Today I squeezed into a pair of my Bean pants. And it doesn’t hurt to breath. I can buckle them like a normal person (ie not writhing on the bed until they button up). I feel good. Good enough to work harder. Good enough to think that while I may be chubby (even a chubby bride), I can get healthier.