Flotsam

Can I blame my two-day-late wedding update on the blizzard? I know it only started yesterday, but Wednesday I was busy drinking gin stockpiling canned goods.

Monday was my first fitting, and my breasts are officially a problem. Well, two problems. I was spectacularly unsuccessful in procuring a bra to go with my dress—none of the long-line strapless bras were low enough for my dress back, and I was frightened by the stick-on versions, and frankly skeptical of their ability to hoist. What if they didn’t stick, or worse yet, what if they didn’t unstick, and I was forced to live out my days with molded silicone cups covering my nipples? So I decided to take the advice of many of you and have the seamstress sew cups into my dress. Besides, I figured, the dress itself is probably fitted enough to provide some support—the beaded satin hugging my chest wall below my bosom would effectively block my breasts’ escape route.
As it happens, the dress itself provides exactly no support, and the “cups” the seamstress offered to sew in are the flimsy cloth triangles you see in bathing suits. It isn’t like my nipples show or anything—it is a thick dress, and I could easily get away with not wearing a bra. Only…I look decidedly less curvy without one.
I tried, tactfully, to indicate to the seamstress that I wanted the neckline lowered a little, or something, to counter the unbosoming effects of my bralessness, but that proved to be a remarkably difficult conversation to have. “Excuse me, but if I could just look a little…sluttier.” I know I could have said I wanted a tiny bit of cleavage, but I was too embarrassed, so I just murmured vaguely about the neckline and kept pulling it downward in a shameless attempt to showcase my assets.

In my defense, these are new breasts. I have only had them for a few years, and I’d like to get some use out of them. I was an A cup until I was almost twenty-five, and the one good thing about my PCOS-induced weight-gain extravaganza was that it left me with enviable mammaries (“fake looking,” according to the Actually, and if that isn’t the strangest pseudo-compliment I’ve ever gotten from a man, I’ll eat my hat). Anyway, the point is that if I have to be “pudgy,” on my wedding day, at least let me show off my excellent rack—besides, I am counting on my curvy upper body to balance out my meaty farm girl hips.
So, I broke down and ordered the NuBra Featherlite (sic), which is supposedly able to support a D cup, and if that doesn’t work I am thinking of using a series of pulleys and invisible wires. Hey, it worked in Peter Pan, and surely my breasts don’t weigh much more than Mary Martin.
And now that my last vestige of blog dignity has been dispensed with, I will move on.

I didn’t have much luck with shoes, either—I bought two different pairs and brought them to my fitting and both looked awful. Now I am fond of these (in silver), but am conflicted about wearing flats. On the one hand, I would be comfortable, on the other hand, I am only 5’4”, and unless I can get my thin, 5’10” maid of honor to have her shins surgically shortened, I am afraid I might look like a hobbit. Of course there are millions of lovely eleventy-inch heels, but not as many less precarious ones.*

Let’s see, what else…

I discovered the marvelous, monstrous timesuck that is Etsy, and have found it to be full of lovely things and delightful people. A woman who does the most fetching letterpress, and is located right here in Minneapolis, will be doing our invitations. And I ordered this necklace and these earrings from someone else. I will try them on with the dress at my next fitting, and if they don’t work the very kind artist is going to custom make something for me that will. Now that is service.

I have a meeting with the caterer/wedding coordinator/venue lady on Monday, and so will be busy this weekend ensuring that when she lets loose with the inevitable barrage of questions about our “plans” I can do something other than stammer “I don’t know” and look blindsided. I suppose that means nailing down things like, oh, the time of the wedding. Ha! I should plan weddings for a living.

*Edited to add: Although I just found these, and they look quite manageable, don’t they?