The date is set...

In the absence of a firm wedding date, I have at least now booked a date to try on a wedding dress. I only wish Dukan had arrived already. Instead, I'm on a steady no-fun diet. Steady since about 11AM this morning anyhow...

As this will be my first foray into white-dress-ville, I thought I'd try to go in with a fraction of a direction. So what if I don't actually have a venue booked? So what if it's been six months since I got engaged? So what if I'm debating between February and October? Maybe all I need is the dress to push me into decisions.

I have decided to post some inspiration. (note to reader, particularly if reader is my mother: these are inspiration dresses, not final dresses and do not require comment, opinion or thoughts of any kind that are otherwise unsupportive). First up, Portia Di Rossi's stunning Zac Posen Cinderella dress is stunning. Playful, contemporary, sleek - pink perfection!

Up Next: Jessica Simpson's Vera Wang Stephanie lace strapless gown. That dress may have been the only good thing to come from that union.

I'm not a huge fan of hers but Demi Moore wore an incredible Versace to the Oscars last year. Save your questions as to why she was actually at the Oscars because I certainly have no idea. Likely not for her role in Charlie's Angels I'm
sure... Just picture it in white! Le love!
















Also fell in love with this Zac Posen 20's throwback when Gwyneth Paltrow wore it to the Oscars in 2007. That was back when she was still an actress and not a pontificating Goop-y mum who only eats things that end in organic and fears a sense of humour. Again, picture it in white... sigh







Finally, a non-celebrity inspirational dress. Whoever this woman is, I want her life. Married in Paris near the Opera in this incredible gown and mouth-watering shrug. I can't actually tell if I love the dress or just want to marry the jacket. Either way, this is the true inspiration for my wedding. Je Suis Tombé Amoureuse!!!

So it's come down to this...

Another attempt at the dreaded "D" word. This time, it's double D. Say it with me now: Dukan Diet. This is some serious business, people. Have you heard anything about it? The world is reporting that the lady Middletons (mom included) have Doc Dukan to thank for those little middles that were enviously ogled by 2 billion pairs of peepers around the world last week. True story, at least that's what the tweeps say.

Now, while the audience reach of my upcoming nuptials will be slightly fewer than those of the newly appointed Duchess of Cambridge, I will be nonetheless as fanatical about their opinions of everything I select - hair, dress, venue, husband... you understand, oui?

The double D suggests I have a "true" weight that is approximately 17lbs lighter than where I currently sit, albeit on my rather comfy, squishy ass. I truly wonder if I have it in me to do it. I hate diets. I get righteously angry and irritated, miserably deprived. Then I start reading Dove soap-inspired "I am Woman, I love my fat body, it's who you are inside that counts" baloney and fall right back off the hunger wagon into a pile of hamburger-chocolatebar-bottleofwine self indulgence and alas, the cycle begins once more. It's the battle between the "My pants don't fit agony and My pants fit ecstasy."

I, for one, often prefer ecstasy over agony but why is it that you can't have one without the other? In order to experience the happiness I so desire (which is avoiding back crack at all expenses - you know, when girls are squeezed into a dress so tight their back looks like a bum?), one must endure the agony of getting there. How to maintain focus is the question. Do I recite the unbelievably callous but oh-so-apropos Kate Moss quip: "Nothing Tastes as Good As Skinny Feels"? Or do I hide away for the next two months like a hermit just to avoid temptation?

At the very least, I'll have learned a lesson in will power. At very best, my husband-to-be will still want to marry me in spite of the size of my backside and the mood swings coming his way.

No one likes a bully

He's been stalking me for months. His presence cold enough to chill me to the bone. He casts a dismal shadow over my day and has ruined at least four pairs of boots. And then, just like a bad dream he was gone. In his absence, she arrived. The world looked brighter, there was a song in my step (Pick Up the Phone by Dragonette) and my thoughts danced with visions of adorable new dresses and sunkissed tresses....

But suddenly, a recurring nightmare, he was back. He spat at her with his stone-cold venom and blanketed all surfaces with a dull gray film. Dashed were my hopes of freckles and a tan as the colour drained from my face, lips turning blue and fingertips to ice.
But this is the last time. The last time I reel against the wind; the last time my hair goes frizzy and staticky ice and cold; the last time I brush off the car only to end up with a soggy wet coat; the last time I contemplate Sorrel's and my parka; the last time I pretend-shovel; and the last pair of boots I lose to sick salt stains!

Old Man Winter, I'm talkin' to you! Quit being a bully, and Spring, dear, sweet Spring, man up and grow a pair!

Outta My Way, Thursday!

I need a break from my life. I really do. It's becoming physically evident. I'm fogged up, fogging tired, want to fog the dog - gah, the very fact that I am using the word "fog" to suggest the word "fu&k" paints a picture! I tapped, zapped, whacked. Even my body is rebelling. Deciding a massage would do me good yesterday, I was saddened to hear that my muscles are "like wood" and not in a good way that would suggest I've been working out... 'cause I haven't... whatever!

Hoping a little R&R&R in Boston will help this weekend. Rest - courtesy of a comfy suite at the Commonwealth Hotel near Boston University. Relaxation - courtesy of a Sunday spa afternoon in the city. And... Retail - courtesy of my wallet and my insatiable need to buy things that I don't need.

Truthfully, I'm more than excited to spend a few days agenda-less, just hanging out in a cool city. I love Boston. If you haven't been, it's worth a visit. It's a city that doesn't intimidate. It's cool without trying. Has great culture and makes it so simple to get up to speed on its incredible history you have no excuse not to learn something. And has amazing shopping, particularly Newbury Street which is lined with boutiques, restos and fab people watching.

Now if Thursday would seriously just hurry up and get out of my way, I'll be that much closer to fine...

Oh and P.S. re: my last post: I did buy the dress... and I LOVE it so much the cost per wear is irrelevant! (It's the long-sleeved lovely!) xo

To buy or not to buy, that is (always) the question

I've just discovered my new favourite designer: Milly. It's not often when a line sweeps me off my feet but this season's Kennedy's-Gone-Sailing-in-the-late-7os is too cute for words! Take a peek at the line and I'm sure we'll start fighting over who gets to buy what very soon.

Now, speaking of buying, when the term "cost per wear" comes to mind when contemplating a purchase, you know there's not a sale sign in sight. But when one is still thinking about said purchase nearly four days in a row since falling in love at first sight, calculating "cost per wear" seems rather efficient and responsible, if you ask me!

Ok, for argument's sake, lets say a really pretty, day-to-night, great-for-work-and-afternoon-cocktail, spring-to-summer, perfect-fit, colour-blocked, long-sleeved shift is $500 (just throwing out a number). If I wear that darling even just five times, it becomes a $100 dress, see? And, since it's February and there are at least six months I could wear said frock (even once/month), the cost drops even lower...

See gals, sometimes math can be fun! Sometimes using the cost-per-wear calculator means that purchases are actually free! Take, for example, my Hunter Wellies - avg price: $200. Have worn them at least 30 times since purchase, which puts them around $6. And, since the rainy season hasn't even begun yet, these adorable high-heeled rainbooties will soon be free or even cost negative dollars!

Well, I'm convinced! And excited for a new dress!

Cease and desist: foot in mouth

Hello foot, meet mouth. Oh, you know each other? Ah yes, you know each other quite well. Frankly, I'm not liking the nature of your relationship. It's becoming rather inappropriate to be seen together so often, particularly under the circumstances. A couple of quick reminders so we can continue our collective working relationship:
1) it's Sherry, not Shelly
2) that brand is owned by their competitors, not the people buying your expensive lunch
3) to be gracious is not the same as to have grace
4) Lil' John and Lil' Wayne are not the same person
5) not everyone wants to hear your story, particularly the CMO, no matter how interesting you think you are
6) stop talking the minute your brain says "stop talking" - seriously, even if it's mid-sentence. It's better than what you're about to say...
Embarrassed makes me look fat.

*New* Review: OPI for Sephora - Chic Print for Nails

In effort to add some youthful pizazz to my already SAD-affected February, I went on a mission to try the latest in nail trends: the nail print. Loving the look as seen in the pages of high fashion mags and US Weekly alike, I hit a few different Shoppers Drug Mart's but to no avail. Either they don't yet carry or I'm utterly behind the hipster chicks who beat me to the punch (fists closing on the cutest nails around, I bet). I finally settled in at Sephora and a set of 16 magenta and silver diamond patterned $20 nail prints. I couldn't WAIT to try them! And then I did... Here's hoping I save you $20.

The claim: "A breakthrough array of precut nail patches for extraordinary nails, instantly!"

What else you need to know: "One set of Chic Print for Nails contains 16 nail patches of varying widths, for a one-time application to fingers or toes. The nail patch is a solid-film material with an adhesive back that is activated by friction. The warmth from friction creates conformability, allowing the patch to fit over the compound curves of your nails and seal onto the nail bed. The patent-pending material removes easily by rubbing and peeling off."

What really happened: Not only did I look like I was wearing wrapping paper on my fingertips, the precut nail patches are really big, you need to cut them to size, which you would think would be simple, but sadly not. First was still too big, second way to small. Third bubbled and wouldn't get smooth on my finger once I got the size down and the fourth wouldn't stick at all... AND these bad boys only last 1-2 days.

The Verdict: Clearly teenagers have more time than I do. Too much work for not enough result. Pass on the print and save your $20 for a proper mani.