We're off to a wedding tomorrow, a million miles away - well Wales. Far away Wales. So I'm currently in panic mode that we'll forget anything important; like clothes or shoes, or even the present.
I got my dress today, was a bit alarmed actually in a quiet well try not to worry way, when I had a peek at it in the bag earlier. The fabric is a little crinkly, and it is, well, not a size 10 let's say (oh - yes, the no-carb diet has been forgotten in light of chocolate and wine). But when I finally had a chance to get home and try it on, was very pleased. It could have a touch of the matronly look to it, but with a twinkle in my eye, a Wonderbra, and some lovely green wedge sandals am hoping it is simply a nice dress with a nod to tea dresses of the forties. Either that or I'm fooling myself and it is absolutely matronly, and with two children at my side I'll feel about fifty. (Not that there is anything wrong with fifty - it is just two decades, ok, one and a half decades out).
So I'll be twirling and dancing hopefully, not eating too much in case of matronly tummy bulges and looking after excited children and chatting. Just glad did not buy size smaller dress as it made my boobs look like some floozy's from an ale house in medieval days. Or possibly just stupid.