wedding dress

How about a naked wedding?

So the muther humping dresses I ordered don't fit. I'd like to blame the company I ordered them from, but I think instead I'll blame my genetics. When people ask me my nationality, I usually say, I'm not sure but we were a people who birthed babies and carried heavy objects. Hence my hips. And, apparently, my ENORMOUS ribcage. If I wear a cape for a wedding, no one will know that the blasted thing won't close and I can give up my impossible dream of trying to diet myself into thin-dom. I am not thin. I'm no Princess Kate. I'm possibly TWO Princess Kates sharing the same body. Yeah. Each one of my legs is a Princess Kate.

I'm not bemoaning being fat. I know I'm not fat...but searching for a wedding dress is bringing up every single insecurity I've ever had in my entire life over everything.

(Sometimes, a girl needs hyperbole.)

My future mother-in-law is coming over in a few minutes to take my enormous hips out to find a dress. I envision much crying to come. Why is this so hard? Why is it hard to find a dress that is flattering to a woman with hips and knockers? Huh? I ask you, why is it hard to find a dress for a WOMAN, a dress that doesn't look like a mumu, or like I can hide midgets under my skirt, or a dress that is so tight I can't breathe or if I want to breathe then I have to remove some ribs?

This shouldn't be so hard.

If this doesn't work, then I'm sending out new invitations to everyone. They will read as follows:

Please Join Kealoha And Tanya for their Clothing Optional Nuptials. Please note, they will not serve hot food or drinks to cut down on possibilities of burns. They will also not offer a limbo contest (for obvious reasons).

On second thought, if I don't find a dress, maybe I'll just paint one on. The wedding is during Art Prize after all. Maybe we'll make the top ten and win a big prize. Maybe even a trip to Paris!!

*sigh* Let me have my fantasies, please.

Scenes From My Life

I am on day four of my staycation and weird things are happening. I think I’m relaxing. Seriously. I know it’s hard to believe but I’m starting to feel the way I feel after taking a Valium to visit the dentist, you know, all loose and totally okay with someone sticking foreign objects in my mouth. Huh.

Maybe that’s not a good comparison. Let’s just say I’m feeling good. I'm "chillaxed". Like this dog:

I’m also accomplishing my daily To Do List of read, write, and work out. I usually throw five or six other things on the list, because, well, that’s what I do.

I mixed a new audiobook demo in hopes I can branch out and get some more work. I’d love to install a home recording studio. Here’s the demo if you’re curious. Oh. Wait. I can't upload it. Damnation! Anyway, it has excerpts from “Exclusive” by Sandra Brown, “Blunder Woman” by some freak, and “Ice Cold” by Tess Gerritsen. I wish I could’ve put her new one on here that I just recorded because I LOVE it. Ah well. *Kealoha rocks! Here's the demo.

I’ve also developed some kind of alien cold. When I breathe, I make this whistling wheezy sound and I’ve started coughing like an old smoker; you know, that kind of cough when you hear someone do it you think, my god, they’re going to cough up a baby. It’s super sexy. Kealoha can’t keep his hands off me, especially when I’m all hooo-waaahh. Yummy.

I took my mom out to lunch to smooth some things over with her. Found a home for one of the cats, and might have a home for our three-legged one…that leaves one more home to find for sweet Mercedes. She’s a cat that likes to sit on your shoulder and stick her butt in your face. Want her? She’s awesome.

And I sent out 5 agent queries on the 4th of July. One of them wrote me back that day and said: “First I have to congratulate you on one of the best queries I’ve read in some time. I’d love to read your novel.” Now, if I can just get her as excited about the novel as she was about the query.

Today it’s Movie Day with a girlfriend, tomorrow it’s Polish Sausage Night with Kealoha’s parents. The excitement just keeps ticking.

Oh. And I bought my wedding dress. I couldn’t decide which to get so I bought two. I’ll wear the one that makes me feel pretty and thin and the other one I’ll just pull a Miss Havisham (as suggested by writer Jennifer Armintrout). Yeah. I’ll put the wedding dress on and go grocery shopping, or to the dentist, or to the allergist’s, and pretend that it’s TOTALLY NORMAL.

Then I’ll hock up a loogie. Just for that final touch.

Loogie. Ew.

That was probably too much information. I should probably go sit in a moist, hot room or something for a while. See if I can birth me an alien baby.

In love and light, Tanya

Gnomes & the Application to Date Me filled out by Kealoha

I woke up this morning with a firm plan. 1) I will work out for an hour at the MVP.

2) I will fix a chapter in FOODIES.

3) I will eat a balanced breakfast with lots of fruit.

4) I will go to my voice over at 10 and be totally relaxed.

 

Yeah. That went out the window right away. I’m currently on my second cup of coffee, no breakfast, and I won’t have time to work out because I’ve been looking at wedding stuff all morning and behaving like a ridiculous girl. You know, that silly kind of girl in horror movies that’s all stupid and says in a high, soft voice: “Oh! I think I’ll go down this incredibly scary dark alley all by myself because surely a crazed killer wouldn’t hide there!”

I blame my Mother-in-Law-To-Be. She sent me links to beautiful frilly dresses and now I Can’t. Stop. Clicking. (Check out one of the sites she sent me HERE.) I also can’t stop thinking about if I wear poofy crinoline, just how enormous will the lower half of me look?

I don’t want to look like I’m hiding children under my dress. Or gnomes or something. That would be bad wedding behavior.

To stop obsessively looking at dresses I can’t even fit into (because I’m not working out enough or eating well enough), I started tweaking our wedding website.

We have the cutsie story of how we met. It’s very “When Harry Met Sally”, but without the orgasm scene in the restaurant, although I’ve done plenty of moaning over a good meal.

Anyway, remember that application to date me I posted about a year ago? And that Kealoha actually filled it out. Here’s the application he sent me. I’m posting it because it’s cute. And manly. Really, it takes a real man to fill out an application to date someone, especially when that someone is you. Or me. Or whatever. Anyway, it was flattering to the nth degree. And here it is:

Now back to obsessively clicking. Wish I could find a good 1950s style dress that won’t make me look like a whale and will highlight my cleavage without turning it into a the sole focus of the evening. I really don’t want people to say “Man, I don’t remember anything about that wedding but Tanya had ENORMOUS boobs, and I’m pretty sure there were gnomes hiding under her dress.”