Would you postpone wedded bliss for weight-loss?
My husband and I decided to get married just one month before we said our “I do’s.” We had both decided a traditional wedding wasn’t our style and we also didn’t want to postpone our pre-decided date (July 25 – the day we met) another two years until it fell on a day that would be most convenient for others to attend. Many brides and grooms get cold feet, but my premarital jitters had absolutely nothing to do with the man I was to marry or even the hetero-patriarchal act of marriage itself. No, my one and looming concern is that I would forever look at my wedding photos and instantly think “I looked so… fat.”
So, here’s my confessional: In June of last year, I decided to diet. Of course I didn’t call it a diet; I simply resolved to cut down on my carb intake. One week into a steady and insanely boring diet of eggs, salad and veggie burgers sans bread, I found myself perusing the diet pill aisles at the pharmacy. I felt guilty if I didn’t exercise at the gym every night. I began to count calories again. I may have even purged. In short – I did many of the things I used to do when I was actively eating disordered. I even considered postponing the wedding till the following year, in hopes perhaps that the magical weight-loss fairy would sprinkle some of her sparkly slimming dust on me so I wouldn’t be as fat come my wedding day.
Recovery doesn’t mean you won’t slip up from time-to-time. There is no “cure” for an eating disorder; the best we can hope for is to learn ways in which we can manage our disorders in a healthy and constructive manner. And regardless of what stage of recovery one is at or how long they’ve been there, many of us can never diet. Not ever. For someone recovering from an eating disorder, dieting is equivalent to a recovering alcoholic taking “just one sip.” It’s a road best left untravelled. But being in recovery also means being cognizant of your disorder and its mental and physical trappings. I recognized that I was teetering on a very slippery slope and immediately worked on stopping the behaviors and silencing what I affectionately call “that bitch in my head” (TBIMH). Yes, even in recovery she lives, but with time, it gets easier to ignore her.
I’ve never been one of those kinds of girls who dreams of a fairytale pretty princess wedding, but my wedding did mark one of the most important days of my life. I put a muzzle on TBIMH and had a serious talk with my inner-self, the part of me where logic and ration still miraculously reside. After all, my decisions now affected not just me and my life, but also that of another human being whose life is now inextricably intertwined with mine. One of the reasons Brandon and I decided to “elope” is because we wanted the ceremony to be especially memorable for us. How could I let a corset-back gown and a little back-fat stand in my way of our shared wedded bliss? And how long would I continue allowing my body and my insecurities over it dictate my – and our – future happiness?
I didn’t and our wedding went off without a hitch. But according to the June issue of Fitness magazine one in five women would postpone her nuptials if she were not at her goal weight by her wedding date. The magazine conducted a study of 1,000 brides-to-be in a nauseatingly-titled article “Bridezilla Confessions!”
Some results showed:
• 83 percent of the brides wanted to lose weight before the wedding, and 33 percent wanted to lose 30 pounds or more. Only 14 percent said they were already at their ideal weight.
• 36 percent would take weight loss pills or supplements to get rid of weight; 43 percent would double their workout time; 6 percent would try weight-loss surgery
• 29 percent would be willing to move in with their mother-in-law if it meant reaching their ideal weight by their wedding day
• 80 percent want a gown that conceals their belly; 46 percent want a dress that shows off their cleavage; and 32 percent want a dress that camouflages back fat.
• 2 percent said they’d rather overhear, “She looks thin” on their wedding day; 46 percent want to hear, “She looks happy;” and 52 percent would rather overhear, “She looks so beautiful.”
Of course, it should be noted that Fitness magazine is hardly the bastion of positive body self-acceptance and with more than half of its pages devoted to weight-loss, it’s not a far leap to conjecture that its readers aren’t also disproportionately interested in weight-loss. So, the study is perhaps not the most accurate representation of a national cross-section of brides-to-be. But here’s the real kicker: More than half of the women surveyed – 63 percent – say their fiance wouldn’t change a thing about their body, suggesting our perfect-body-pressures to be self-inflicted. From bridal boot camps to crash starvation diets, ladies… why do we torture ourselves so?
I didn’t lose a single pound for my wedding, even after finding *the* dress in a smaller size on clearance. The old disordered me would have rationalized that, of course I could drop 15 pounds just three weeks, especially with such a beautiful dress providing the thinspiration to do so. The recovered me instead had my gown altered to fit my current weight and body, even though the short three-week time frame had my poor seamstress working overtime (for which I paid dearly).
Now, as I approach our one-year anniversary, I look at my wedding album and I remember the glint of sun like carnival glass on the lake as we took the ferry across to the island with Victorian mansions nestled into a mountainside of lush green vegetation. I remember the bed of heart-shaped flowers left by the thoughtful Jamaican maid in our room at the bed-and-breakfast in whose front yard English garden we were married. I remember reading the vows that even I, a writer, couldn’t manage to articulate until just that morning. I remember the tremble of my husband’s lip as he read his beautiful words to me and the gentle brush of his hand as he wiped away the tears that slight quiver brought. I remember the passers-by who gathered to watch clap and cheer as we sealed our marriage with a kiss and the congratulations and well-wishes from perfect strangers as our carriage passed through the island’s downtown district. I remember smiling so much my face hurt afterwards. Most of all, I remember being so gloriously happy and in love and the feeling that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
The photos, now displayed prominently in our home, spark the memories of a hundred little details of that day – “I look so fat” is not amongst them.









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