You know you are happy when you are smiling so much that the attendant at the petrol station notices and asks you what's the deal?

This happened to me today as I got a call that my alterations were finished on my wedding dresses (yes I mean plural). I promptly got up and practically ran to my car, drove directly to the alterations place and tried those babies on. They FIT perfectly! Even the small one! Yay Yay Yay Yay.

The alterations lady was so happy she hugged me. I was so happy I hugged her back (weird as those who know me will attest- I am NOT a hugger). I was so happy that I smiled all the way to pick up some garments from the other alterations place, then all the way back to work and then apparently was still smiling so much 45 minutes later when I ducked into the Petrol Station next door to my work (to grab 2 minute noodles as I forget to get lunch on my lunch break) that the attendant couldn't help but ask me what was making me so happy.

In fact I am so happy that I am  now recovered from my meltdown that occurred this morning after my sister texted me to tell me that her size 2 dress (that when it arrived I panicked because I couldn't imagine anyone being tiny enough to fit into it) was WAYYYY (exactly how she wrote it) too big. WTF! That almost got her kicked out of the wedding! Luckily for her my dresses now look perfect, fit perfect and are perfect and that means I am happy enough to forgive her for being such a skinny bitch (at MY wedding- the nerve!) I'll bet she looks gorgeous on the day too- no idea about being a good sister...

Anyway need to go and stretch out my face a bit- my cheeks hurt :-)
Image via accessalex.com
When I called the dance studio yesterday morning the instructor kindly informed me that "oHHHHH You have left it awfully late, but I guess we can see what we can do..." This naturally pumped up my tyres and I took myself and my oodles of confidence (along with FI of course)  to the dance lesson that evening.

Let me just say now that my visions of wowing our guests with our Dancing with the Stars worthy performance have faded and in their place are lovely images of us shuffling around with me saying every two minutes "shit that was supposed to be my other leg first" or "Oh Crap I was supposed to turn then wasn't I?". Or even both of us just dancing into the wall because we didn't think it through and started in the wrong place. Either way I am sure it will be very graceful and elegant and simply scream romance. I mean after all what is more romantic than two people gritting their teeth with pained looks on their faces, muttering "walk, walk, side, together, step, turn close..."? Nothing I am sure.

Just think what we'll be capable of after our final two lessons!
23 days to go and counting. It has dawned on me though, that we are leaving the country in around 16 days and I am not prepared!

I have gone from completely chill and almost serene about the planning to a complete and utter nutcase in about 24 hours. I am not entirely sure what set off this recent bout of panic but it has taken over- with a vengeance! I woke up this morning with an overwhelming need to confirm every single detail. I absolutely lost my shit, just on reading an email from the wedding coordinator which indicated she hadn't recorded ALL of  my song choices.

I have realised that we still don't actually know who is coming and who isn't coming to the wedding and which of these people are bringing their children. Given that this is the case I am panicked about feeding said children. Even though that is completely irrational as I am sure that the venue will accommodate even at late notice.

I decided a while back that I was going to take my dress to the alterations place in the shopping centre as it is very simple and they assured me they just need a week. Now that I am 3 weeks out I am completely shitting myself that it is too late (despite what they said) and I'll be stuck with 2 dresses that don't fit- one is way too big as I have lost weight and the reception dress is too small as I didn't lose enough weight. Oh holy hell I am going to have a million wedding dresses and nothing to wear.

I am freaking out over the fact that we have not purchased luggage yet (and do not own a suitcase between us that is not falling apart- this from two fairly well travelled people?). I am concerned that when we do pack I am going to forget one of the 1000 things I need to take with me (and yes, I am having a destination wedding to avoid the need to be stressing about the details). I am having visions of putting on my (ill-fitting) dress and promptly realising that I have no hairpiece, jewellery, wedding rings, garters, purses etc.

I had a nice long convo with my sister last night- who happens to be my bridesmaid. She reminded me about Bali belly. I went to the docs to get shots for Bali but he never mentioned you can get a Bali Belly preventor and so none of us have taken one. I am now having frequent episodes in which I panic that the whole wedding party has been taken down by food poisening and the wedding is cancelled or worse turned into "that scene" (you know the one) from the movie Bridesmaids.

So I am going to have to get us all packed off to the doctors for the Bali Belly preventor- and some anti anxiety meds whilst I am there! Did you panic and stress over the details of your wedding? Did anything actually go wrong? Did you care?

When I was eighteen I was a freelance Makeup Artist. I had a really irregular income and schedule and it was kind of all over the place but I loved it. I also thought it was ok because it seemed to fit with what I thought was appropriate for an 18 year old.

When I dropped out of uni to figure out what I really wanted to do when I grew up, I thought it would be a good idea to add beauty therapy skills to my resume to kind of stabilise the income a little. So off I went to beauty school and got myself a nice fancy diploma to hang on the wall. This seemed to do the trick for a few years- I even opened up my own Makeup & Beauty Studio. It still just didn't seem very grown up. I was in my twenties by now and felt that I should have a "career" not a "job" and makeup and beauty just felt a bit like a "job". My ambitious little self wasn't satisfied with this and my insecure self was worried about what people might think.

I had told myself that I was going to figure out what I wanted to "be" and then go and "be" it. I just got a little sidetracked and hadn't really thought about what that was- for a few years. So to make up for lost time I decided what I was going to become. Without any real thought. Just plucked the idea out of the air and ran with it. I was going to be a Financial Adviser. I didn't actually know what a financial adviser was or did day to day but it sounded really grown up. Like a career.

The next week I decided to apply for a job in a bank- because banks employ financial advisers. If I worked somewhere that employed financial advisers, I would be one step closer (technically, I suppose) to being a financial adviser. Luckily for me I got the job- I am actually still a bit surprised at this as I do recall asking in the interview about the uniform and upon hearing their answer, exclaiming "that is excellent- I look great in all those colours!". I mean I was joking (mostly) but it probably wasn't really job interview material. Anyhoo... I got the job and set about learning how to become a financial adviser.

I must have impressed someone there (probably by how well the uniform complemented my complexion) because within 12 months I was working along side a financial adviser as their support staff with a view to learning the job whilst I studied (on their dime) to get my qualifications. So I got my wish- here I am now with my grown up job (which luckily for me I turned out to be half decent at), sick with nostalgia about the days when I was 18 and didn't have to work 9-5 and got to be creative and do what I love. Oh Boy.

So I do still do makeup artistry. I work on the weekends and do people's weddings (mainly) and it's great and fulfils that creative side of me. But I am knackered as I do work full time in a fairly demanding job and then come home to my 3 year old and be mummy (btw this is also a fairly demanding job) and then go and do makeup on the weekends. I turn down a lot of work as I can't do anything during the week and photographers are often approaching me with weekday shoots that I have no hope of making.

I have also just added in spray tanning to the "beauty" side of things I do as I am looking to increase the ways I can earn money from home. After all that effort and years of hard work to get the "grown up" job, I am now working my butt off trying to figure out how to make it go back to how it was before.

You see I am older now. Hopefully wiser. I have now been taught some valuable lessons about what is important in life. I now know that time with my adorable son and work/life balance is much more important than whether or not people think you have a grown up career or a silly job playing with makeup.

It hasn't been all for nothing though. I learned a lot about myself on my quest to be a grown up. I learned that I am really determined and that I can work really hard and that I can create my reality- if I want to. I also met the man I am about to marry, which I am thankful for every single day. I do think it is a little bit funny that I seemed to have gone full circle in only 10 years.

MM is happy this morning and I sing "twinkle little star" with him in the shower to distract him from my slumped shoulders and bloodshot eyes. He thinks if mummy is sad then he did something wrong so I am trying to preserve his happiness, his innocence and hope he will never know this sadness.

I am sitting here lost. Empty. In a trance like state, knowing I should be working but unable to find the focus. People are coming past my office and saying 'good morning', I am confused by this and unable to make my voice work in order to return the greeting.

My chest is tight and feels like it is in the grip of a vice which is being intermittently tightened. I get used to the new level of tightness and someone winds the vice. My eyes are stinging from holding back tears- I cannot cry at work. 'Good Morning'.

Is it? Will it ever be again? Can it be? When things as horrible as this can, will and do happen? How can you make sense of something like this? A little baby, so beautiful, so perfect. With a mummy, a daddy and a big sister loving him so completely. Begging him, begging God and bargaining with any higher power every day to let him get better and come home. An extended family; nanas, grandads, aunties and uncles all watching on in fear and disbelief that this little family should be faced with such tragedy... again. How much can one family take? How much of their broken hearts remain after the first tragedy. What will be left after this one?

My heart aches for my brother. How can he continue to be after this. Let alone be strong for his daughter and wife. My soul is crying for his wife who has been so amazing this last three months. Getting up everyday and going to the hospital to sit by her son. Watching and waiting. Learning all there is to know about CF in order to fight with the doctors to keep trying and give him every chance. To stroke his head and let him know that mummy is there. Loving him,praying for him, protecting him. I think of her pain this morning when she gets up, only to realise, that she has nowhere to be. I can't face it, I have to look away.

I think of the platitudes that people often bandy about in times of sadness and hardship- "everything happens for a reason", "time heals all wounds". None of it helps, none of it even makes sense. It just makes me more fucking angry.

I want to help, I want to be able to stop their hurt- just as I know FI is looking at me helplessly, wishing he could stop mine. There is nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. There are no words.
So Sunday marked the end of week one of 'no sugar'. I have to say it had it's moments, but it was in fact worth the effort. My cranky pants remained in place all week but I am happy to report that they are now decidedly loose. Yay.

I had to decline cake on two seperate occasions and had to face up to the fact that subway cookies are definitely a no-go zone - even if I had saved up the calories... But I am now 1.3kgs lighter as a result of my efforts. I am so happy about this that I may actually wear some slightly less cranky pants this week- despite the no sugar.

I can also report that I did sleep better this week. I also seemed to have more energy towards the end of the week too. I just need to remember to eat- now that sugar is off the table I just don't seemed to be all that interested in food in general. I am still continuing with the biggest loser program and trying to exercise- although I only managed a measely 3 sessions last week.

Anyway that's all for this update and as my good friend Tigger likes to say- 'gotta bounce'.