On the Wedding Diet From Hell, the only thing worse than the smells was my disposition. I was a stressed out, overly emotional bride who was starving and smelled like dead feet. I was miserable.
Given my inability to self contain, everyone else around me was also stressed out and overly emotional. However, they were not hungry, and did not smell. The pressure was building, and it wasn’t going to be pretty when the explosion finally happened. Two weeks before the wedding- so if you are keeping track, that is six weeks of Diet Hell (DH). Six weeks of no Diet Coke, no wine, no salt. Six weeks of re-warmed broccoli. Six weeks of wanting to cry all the time, and actually crying at meal times.
Finally, it all culminated and I was confronted, Intervention style by my beloved. He first told me what would happen if I continued on with the DH: I probably would lose another pound or two. And I would look lovely in my dress. However, I would also look lovely in my dress if the wedding was that day because he thought I was (am) beautiful. I must stop the insanity! If I kept on, no one would tell me I was the Most Beautiful Bride Ever because I would be the only one at the church. The wedding would be called off. This diet was making me bat shit crazy, and I was making him just as crazy. Which he didn’t like one bit. My husband is very rational, level headed, and generally about five mental steps ahead of me… He has very little experience with cray cray, and he wasn’t looking for any more. I had to stop. Immediately.
He threatened to tie me down and force Diet Coke and potato chips down my throat as a next step.
Although the tying down Diet Coke potato chip thing sounded incredibly appealing, for once in my stubborn life, I listened. I stopped the Diet Hell. The wedding was wonderful, we ate and drank, and there wasn’t a stalk of broccoli in sight. Diet Coke (and delicious wine) flowed. And, in the end the dress (so much drama) fit perfectly, and I was The Most Beautiful Bride Ever.