Supersize Me

I am officially scared for life. My reputation for being a well-dressed, fashionised tart is ruined. My name is smut *loud sobs* And to think this is all a result of wearing that god awful creation. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So Mrs-S-To-Be finally got married on Saturday and this poor tart, who fro once kept her fucking mouth shut and took the news that I would be wearing that dress with grace and poise, had to wear my maid of honour dress. Now the design was totally gorgeous - loved that - the problem, however, came in once I found out what the bloody hell the fabric was! Yip, I was told that I would be wearing satin. But wait folks, it gets better! Not only was I now going to be wearing the worst fucking fabric on the planet but it was going to be a dusty, dirty salmon pink. Yay for me - I could hardly contain my excitement.

But I decided that I would gush over the dress, telling my friend just how gorgeous I thought it was and a fantastic fabric and colour she had chosen (vomit bag aisle 5 phuleez!) My deepest fears were realised on Saturday morning when I had to climb into my tent. And I say that with just cause. You could literally have fitted the entire Mandela family in it. Now one would think that the fucking thing would be made to perfection, after all it was made for me right? Mmmm, maybe not... My dress dilemma only got worse though... There were 3 burn marks on the side of it, the zip was a gaudy white and it hadn't been finished!

To make sure that this tart is not over-exaggerating a dreadful and painful situation, let's recap my extra special maid of honour dress, the dress that will forever be in my mate's photos to mark her memorable day:

1. It was the size of a tent and could fit a family of 10 in it. This meant I couldn't lift my arms higher than my fucking elbows for fear of flashing a bit tit. Grrrrreeeeaaat!
2. Satin apparently stretches. Mmmm, so was now wearing even bigger pink sack. Charming!
3. That's how many fucking burn marks this thing had on it.
4. The stitching near my waist hadn't been finished and so my over-sized plush family of 10 house starting coming undone. Super.
5. The bloody dressmaker cut the dress too short. I tried changing my shoes but alas the ones I had originally chosen were just too perfect to punish and have hide in a shoe box. So I looked like a midget who had recently had a massive fucking growth spurt.

Man did this tart look shit hot or what?! Especially loved the looks I got from The Westcliff's Function Manager - yes, Andrew I knew that I looked like a complete fucking tosser. 'Preciate it. Since I was brought up to look on the bright side of things I figured that the whole pink cream puff thing I had going on wasn't that bad. I mean all in all, I guess you could say it was a rather "successful" day!

Can't wait to see the official photo's - yip, am just dying with anticipation.