Cake as medicine

So I’m meeting with the dressmaker this Saturday. I think Im going to call her ‘my seamstress’ from here on in. I think it sounds luxurious, even if it’s just in my own head.

I’ve only ever had one dress made for me from scratch before. That was for my mum’s second wedding. It was trendy and ridiculous.

I got reasonable mileage out of it as I wore it to my school ball. It was white, short and it had an a-line skirt that had a couple of layers of tulle that made that skirt all the more party-like.

Now that I think about it, this dress isn’t much different.  Longer, but the general idea is pretty similar.

I’m using my mum’s dress that she wore on her second wedding day.  At the time I thought it looked a bit silly on a woman that had already been married and had children.

But it was breathtaking.

Now my coveting has paid off – almost 15 years after laying my green eyes over that dress for the first time.

It’s mine.

And what am I going to do with this sensational gown? Cut it up, of course.

Well, cutting it in half.

The skirt is the part I want. It’s girly and tulle-y and twirly. A full ballgown number.  But the top part has to go.

Although it’s heavy champagne satin. It’s pure luxury, but it’s just too conservative for me. It’s a simple bodice attached to the skirt with a round neck and capped sleeves. Very Melrose Place.

Not too sure what to do with the top part of the dress, but I have some ideas that I can’t wait to banter around with ‘my seamstress’. I hear she used to work with the likes of Ray Costarella, but I’m yet to confirm that tantalising thought.

Started a diet and exercise program three days ago. Can’t say it’s going well.  Nearly passed out at work yesterday from the lack of sugar. Thank sweet baby Jesus someone was having a birthday, the sliver of white chocolate mudcake saved me from hitting the floor.