Wedding cake

Well, some have told me it's way too early but as I thought this would be the best part of the whole wedding process, the part I had been waiting for since I was a little girl, yesterday I went hunting for a wedding dress.

There's just one thing I hadn't taken into consideration - I live in the country of tiny Chinese girls. I mean, there are some larger versions of the teeny ladies here too, but maybe those ones don't get married...

Anyway, I found a dress I liked on the internet, found out who the retailer was, and made my way to be transformed into a three-tired cake. When I got there however, I was informed that the largest size they had was about 10 sizes smaller than the one I needed, adding (very considerately) that this was already quite a large size by Hong Kong standards.

The (tiny) sales assistant then told me that this problem happens sometimes, and that I should just try it on anyway and not do the zip up. I resisted for a little while, but as soon as she had understood that I would not pay for the dress if it ripped as I tugged it on, I decided to go with her suggestion.

In the changing room, I stopped breathing and shimmied and twisted into the many, many layers of dress (I had no idea a wedding dress would be so heavy and hard to manipulate), and once I had managed to get the underlayers to remain under, I stepped out of the booth.

And then I saw myself in the mirror...

The hem of the dress, which was supposed to gently sweep the floor, was hanging around my calves while the waist was somewhere under my cleavage. I looked like a little sausage wrapped in silk.

The sales assistant continued to tell me that I looked gorgeous while I laughed and cried and just didn't know what to do with myself.

But that was nothing - back in the changing booth, I could get out of what it had taken me so long to get into. I was drowning in a sea of tulle, stuck in a satin cage.

And now I'm stuck because although I had no intention of buying a dress (I want to have it made), I have no idea what suits me or not. Although I do know that a dress 10 sizes too small doesn't look that great.

Plus, ever since I told Krusty about this, instead of his usual pet name of "Incredible Hulk", he has been calling me the "Incredible Bulk".

I feel like a million dollars...