Stressy Stressy Stessy

I'm going mad.  Really.  Really, really properly mad.  As in wanting to punch my boss for eating his cereal too loudly, or kick my manager for talking to herself.  Weirdly, this has very little to do with the wedding, which seems to be coming together a bit, but everything to do with work.  Specifically a piece of work I was assigned two years ago, completed, then 6 months ago as informed it had changed.  I've been working on it solidly ever since.  What I didn't expect (although I should have) is that the software upgrade that was supposed to make our lives easier has made things 100 million times worse.  Not helped by my manager coding something that ate up all the system memory and destroyed our files.   Future husband is stressed also so there is no respite at home, especially since I told him he spent too much time in the mancave and he responded by spending every second with me.  I didn't mean he needed to be with me all the time.  I just wanted a hello as I came in the door or something.  Now I just want to send him to his room or something so I can have 5 minutes to watch rubbishy tv without it being switched to Sky Sports news or tennis.  

This is not good for weight loss.  I'd love to be one of those elegant women who go off food.  My future husband is stressed too, and he feels sick so doesn't eat.  I, on the other hand, eat everything that's not nailed down.  At this rate, Norwegians are going to try to harpoon me to make lipsticks.

In other news, we (finally) have our invitations, but there was another hold up when future husband declared that my handwriting wasn't good enough to write them so gave them to his mother, who decided she needed to practice.  Arrgh.  And another wobble when we argued over the meal.  Apparently the meat was too fatty for H2Bs liking so he wanted to pay more money to feed people we don't like.  We're already paying more for the red wine (the one provided was too vinegary) and tea and coffee (of which I drink neither) so I was refusing to pay yet another £5 a head for meat that was actually rather yummy.  We had a bit of an argument over that, after which he felt it was necessary to get me flowers and chocolate.   We've got our centrepieces and some bargain hurricane candle lamps from Tesco.  My new larger bridesmaid's dress has arrived.  

Days til the wedding:  74 (I think)
Level of madness:  Danger! Danger!  (but not the wedding's fault for once). 

Less than 100 days...

With less than 100 days to go until the big day, I'm struggling to find ways to keep feeling like we're actually planning this thing.  The trouble is, we've been far too organised and done everything so far in advance that there isn't much left.  We've sorted the cars, the venue, the dress, veil, and the tiara.  Our invitations are a work in progress, but they are in hand.  We tried on the rings last night. So what's left?

Well...there's the food.  Our menu tasting is next week and we needed to pick options for it.  But, after poring over the menu for hours, we came back to the same choices we made when they gave us the menu, almost a year ago.  So that took all of 5 seconds.

Wedding jewellery is largely sorted, as much as it can be without seeing it with the dress.

That just leaves me.  Having been relatively well behaved regarding the diet and the gym, and starting the new beauty regime, I can honestly say, with 3 months left to go, that I am not suddenly going to morph into Cameron Diaz.  Well, maybe her skin!!!   Sadly, I am not going to lose all the weight,develop 6 pack abs, and my backne is not going to miraculously disappear.   So why am I sitting her ignoring that last tasty Yorkie cookie and the yummy truffles that are calling my name with their siren songs.  Surely one can't make a difference?  Well, probably not.  Like I said, I can stop eating junk and spend my life in the gym, but I've reached that weight where my body fights me and between now and September, if I continue to be good, I'll probably lose 2-3lbs more.  So, no.  I have no idea why I'm not eating that damn cookie.  Maybe something to do with looking at the wedding pictures and knowing I did my best.  I'm not sure how that will relate to my Jabba the Hutt chins but I'll cross that (reinforced) bridge when I come to it.  Can you tell that I'm rubbish at dieting?

Days to the wedding: 97 eeep
Level of madness: cookies are speaking to me.

Slowly turning into Mark Henry....

Work has been incredibly busy and stressful these past 2 weeks, so bad in fact, that on Thursday I actually had to text my future husband and warn him to be nice to me when I got home, because I wasn't altogether sure whether I'd make it home without bursting into tears or lamping a random pedestrian for the heinous crime of walking too slowly.  I hate it when someone blocks the pavement and walks slowly anyway, so God only knows what I would have done had someone got in my way.  Thankfully I made it home without incident, received a big hug from future husband and then ate my bodyweight in chocolate.

Which brings me to the point of this.  Eating.  I've done far too much of it over the past week and have been trying to be good this week.  Not easy when one of my colleagues turned 30 over the weekend and decided to buy the whole bakery counter of Tescos for the team.  I'm not even joking.  There were mini doughnuts, cookies, flapjacks, cornflake cakes, galaxy chocolate cakes, rolos and several other yummy things.  He helpfully placed these on the empty desk facing mine.  Do you know how hard it is to resist that table of yumminess when all you've eaten is 2 bowls of porridge and everyone else is gleefully tucking in and making "Mmmmm" noises.  It's almost impossible.    I've managed to be good so far, despite the fact that I am absolutely starving.  I get the feeling though, that even if I ate all the crisps and chocolate and bowls of chips, or pasta in all the world, I'd still be hungry.  It's just that kind of week.

I need to keep on this though.  If I lose a pound a week, until my first dress fitting, that'll be 10lbs down, which might just make me look less like a walrus in a wedding dress.  Sadly though, some of the exercise has backfired on me and instead of making my arms all sexy and muscular a la Michelle Obama, I've managed to majorly bulk them up.   Seriously, I look like an anaemic, less beardy version of this guy.   It's not a good look on me.  And don't even get me started on what's happening to my bosoms!!

In other amusing news, I decided to attempt to give my pasty skin some colour. It was a stupid thing to do, as these things never work on me, but I never learn.   I purchased one of those moisturisers with a gradual tanner in and started applying it.  Two days, and one bright orange streaked leg later, future husband came downstairs, gave me a hug, and accused me of eating all the doritos.  I denied it because I hadn't.  Not that day anyway.   He said I smell like doritos.  I called him a mental.  Then I worked it out.   It's the self-tan.  So now he calls me nacho.  Thankfully he hasn't noticed the zebra leg.  I hate to think what he'd call me...

Days til the wedding: 103

Level of madness: Low.  I'm too hungry to care.