About a month plus ago, I had my first fitting for my solemnization dress. I was intending to blog about it but the drama that preceded before and after the fitting was just too much that when I finally had the time to sit down and write about what happened – I was too tired.
If you’re curious on what happened, let’s just say it involved my grandparent’s maid going absolutely mental, and I don’t say this phrase lightly. Even more so when you have a sister who is studying psychology and takes this phrase very seriously. We’re talking attacking-police-officers kinda nuts, giggling-to-herself kinda nuts the night before and spending-the-night-till-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning-at-the-police-station making-reports kinda nuts.
Needless to say, I was not actually looking forward to my fitting the next day. I was exhausted, I had panda eyes and I would rather sleep instead.
And because I am, ahem, rather full-figured, I did not expect much either from my fitting. It’s difficult as it is to find an off-the-rack dress that accommodates my ahem, shapely figure, tailoring, in my experience, is an expensive option that has terrible consequences.
And I was right. I thought the dress looked well, so-so. Granted it was baggy because I had lost some weight but it also just did not fit right. I know the dress is supposed to be for my wedding, the OMG! BBQ! ZE MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF MY LIFE!!!! but if it did not fit, it did not fit. I requested more alterations, but I did not think that this was going to do well.
I wasn’t fretting too much because I’ve already sent off my cloth (the one I bought from India, it cost me a bomb, but I really, really loved it) to another tailor, so if that worked out, I’ll have him fix the dress. If that failed, well, then I’ll panic and fret.
The reception dress had its own story behind it. Originally I sent it to one of those upmarket fashion designers but my wedding planner/tailor threw a right fit at the price I was paying for (it was astronomical and some) and insisted I take it back. My WP/tailor insisted that he would save me some money and do a better job. Usually, if anyone insists they can do a better job at a cheaper price, it’s a recipe for disaster.
And against my better judgment, I decided to trust him.
So I took my cloth back from upmarket fashion designer. In the most sneaky way possible. It involved making sad puppy eyes, low voices saying that well, ‘Things change.’ My mum insinuated the wedding might have been called off while I loitered outside looking sad.
Speaking of calling off weddings, yesterday, my aunts called my dad up wondering aloud if the wedding is still on.
‘You know, you’ve been so quiet. Is the wedding still happening? Did it get called off? You should tell us if it did.’
‘No! No! It’s on, it’s on! What on earth made you think it’s off?!’
‘You’ve been so quiet. Maybe there are problems…’
‘No! We did not want to bother you, make it easy on you guys on the wedding date. We have a planner and everything.”
‘How could you think that? You shouldn’t leave everything to the planner! It’ll be so expensive! You should delegate! That’s what relatives are for!’
Now a few months ago, they told me that it’s a good thing that I’m getting a wedding planner, that way it’ll be more relaxing for them and they won’t have to worry. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
Yesterday, aside from my overdramatic aunts, was a lovely day. Eizwan’s uncle invited us over for a Japanese buffet lunch which as you know, is like a blank cheque, open invitation for over-eating. I had such a lovely time, from the company, to seeing the cyclists outside competing on Le Tour de Langkawi and over-eating on the soft shell crab, unagi, sashimi, sushi, teppenyaki to remember that I had to see my tailor later.
It was only halfway through my black sesame ice-cream when it dawned upon me that I was supposed to do my fitting after lunch. Um, oops.
As with my previous fitting, I did not actually look forward to it. My tailor came highly recommended, from the countless stream of people who would see him during the each visit and well, from himself. He was an egregious man who had full confidence in his talents.
Usually, in my experience here in Malaysia, there are very few people who could live up to their bragging rights. I like the tailor, don’t get me wrong, but like I said, full figured, busty etc, I don’t expect it to come out amazing. Perhaps, tolerable enough to survive the evening.
Yesterday, aside from my huge Japanese buffet lunch, I ate my words. The dress was almost perfect. Granted most of the bling-bling had not been sewed on yet but it fit me perfectly. My cousin and mum who were at my first fitting, shrieked. I had never seen them so excited over a dress.
You know how they talk about how you just know if a dress is perfect for you? I’m the least excited bride there is out there, and I wanted to get married like tomorrow. As my cousin said, ‘Lin, he made you look 5kg lighter in a white dress.’ Yes, I looked slimmer and taller in the dress.
Tailor was totally smug about it and deservedly so.
87 days and counting!