Surrendering to the Perfect Bride Body Obsession

This is going to be short because I'm A. mortified by my complete and utter defeat over the powers of the wedding devil on my shoulder and B. have to finish the rest of my writing work so I can fit in my Jillian Michael's DVD before R gets home to we head to a Pilates class.

Yes, that's where we're at.

I'm four months out from my wedding, two months out from my first dress fitting, and hell bent on getting into to best shape of my life.

For the past nine + months of my engagement I have sworn to myself that I wouldn't go crazy about losing weight. Aside from annual check-ups at the doctor, I don't even weigh myself. I'm in fine shape right now, my wedding dress was ordered in my current, perfectly fine size, and if I lose too much weight I'll have to pay more for alterations, and there's nothing I want to do less than pay more money for any element of this wildly costly process.

Nothing except, apparently, have the world's most perfect wedding waist...and arms...and butt...and inner thighs. Will anyone see my inner thighs? Nope. No one. Can my dumb bride brain understand that fact? Nope. She can't. Why? Because she's the worst.

The other day she spent two hours looking for suitable YouTube videos demonstrating the proper moves to achieve perfect arms and then, after deciding a custom plan was the only option, reached out to a trainer friend. She'd removed any and all dairy from her work-week life. Yes, that includes crumbled feta on a salad aka the only proper way to eat a salad. If a bread product is going to be consumed, it must be gluten free, full of flax seed or made with spelt - and she doesn't even know what spelt is!

Apparently this is inevitable. I've spoken to several credible sources who confessed that they too fell victim to the wedding world's most annoying rhyme (shedding for the wedding, but only because say yes to the dress doesn't rhyme). So maybe I should be less annoyed that I'm just your average white-dress wearer and more surprised that I ever thought I'd remain above it all?

Whatever. I don't have time for pop psychology around wedding prep weight loss. I'm way too busy fighting the ridiculous urge to go on the Special K diet for the next six weeks then round that out with a 14-day Master Cleanse. I believe I will triumph, but only because I love food and the way my brain functions when I eat the proper amount of it way too much to be a full-on idiot about this whole thing.


But don't be surprised if I come crawling back in a few weeks with confessions of $150 a pop Pressed Juice cleanses. Real Me is no longer in charge here. Bride Me has officially arrived, and that bitch is bossy!