How difficult can it be, shopping for a new dress?
The simple task, which used to take all of 15 minutes, has become such a monumental effort, I have been wearing the biggest frown all week, even CH has carefully kept his distance.
It was such a silly self-imposed punishment really. Nobody said black is not allowed at the wedding. Or white. It was just an excuse to makeover my wardrobe.
And being a glutton for punishment, I made myself march in and out of malls every other day, try an assortment of ill-fitting clothes and ended up buying a bunch of stuff that I might not even wear.
The trauma of seeing myself in the dressing room mirror has made me go on a crash diet, in a hasty attempt to lose some weight before the event this Friday.
I've even resorted to rummaging through mum's wardrobe and her stash of pearls. Being the ever supportive figure in my life, she said, "Aiya, who's going to look at you? Just wear anything decent lah."
But she doesn't understand. CH's family members and beautiful nieces (6 of them!) will be there in their designer best. (Tell me I don't have self esteem issues.) Sometimes I wish I have a teenage daughter to pinch clothes from. Anyway, last night, I tried out all the potential outfits and paraded before my son.
"This one's ok, especially with the necklace. But wait, I think the skirt's too short. Nah, too skanky. Next!"
"Umm, this makes you look slim, but Bree from Desperate Housewives likes to wear dresses like that. Nah, you'll look like a housewife."
"The green one is clearly out!"
Say what you like, but black is the only colour that flatters me. Finally, I have decided on a dress which I bought in Hanoi last year. All my girlfriends said it looks good on me. It's quite classy and nice (and black of course), with stones embedded on it.
Now why did I waste all that time running around all week? Let's not even talk about the money spent on the newly acquired stuff that didn't quite make the cut.
My tummy is growling now as I write. A hungry woman is an angry one. Thank goodness the wedding is bearly, I mean barely, 48 hours away. This hunger strike is killing me!