More Sesame Chicken...why not?

One of my BFF is getting married next month, despite my tales of married life and I'm so excited for her. I'm excited for me, too, since this will be my first appearance in a bridal party other than my own.

Unfortunately, because of schedule/location problems, I wasn't really involved in the bridesmaid-dress-picking process (or perhaps fortunately, since picking my own bridesmaids dresses almost resulted in jail time), so I was really intrigued to see what the bride came up with.

Since the BFF is such a thrifty doll, she found some great dresses, in her color of choice, on clearance -- only problem was, they only had a few sizes. What the heck, I figured, even if I do get it a couple sizes up, it will have to be altered anyway.


But not nearly as much as I hoped it would.

Marriage equals moo?

I've never been a beanpole, and no one would ever accuse me of being anorexic, but I was pretty proud of the fact that I squeezed in to a size 8 designer wedding dress that fit off the rack, no alterations needed, thankyouverymuch. I tried for months to keep from gaining any weight, and to some degree I was pretty successful (although, let's not count the fact that I had to take my corset off during dinner because I couldn't sit down, let alone eat).

So imagine my shock and awe when, weighing in at a doctor's appointment, I discovered that I had gained 15 pounds since my June wedding. Fifteen. That's like half an Olsen twin.

Later that night, as I got ready for bed, I asked the hubbs if he had noticed a weight gain.

"You look beautiful," he replied, which of course, I interpreted as "get to the gym you fat, fat cow."

So to the gym I went, huffing and puffing along with the slender, blonde-ponytailed she-devils, terrified my arm flab would knock one of them clear across the room if I so much as lifted a finger to wipe the sweat off my brow.

That was the end of January, and now I'm about 10 pounds down. So why do I still feel like I should belong to Heifers International?