That night as I lay in bed my thoughts turned to the decisions and activities that would fill the coming months. Selecting the bridal gown; choosing attendants; determining the type of ceremony, the reception location, the guest list, etc. There would be much to do before the chosen wedding date, which was less than three months away. As my eyes gently closed, I knew that everything would get done. (I have learned over the years that it does, and that what doesn’t get done is usually not needed anyway!) Peacefulness settled over me as I listened to my husband’s steady, deep breathing.

But wait! My eyes opened and fear gripped me. I was the mother of the bride. I, too, would have to look good on the day my husband and I gave our daughter away. And…and this is what caused terror to overwhelm me…I hadn’t lost the 40 pounds that had been my goal for the last year. How could my daughter do this to me? Why couldn’t she have waited a few more months, maybe a few years, for me to lose weight? I had to look good on this special day. After the bride, the groom and the wedding party, all eyes would be on the pouches of fat that increased my hips, thighs and behind. Oh no, my derriere! It would be prominent as I was escorted down the aisle to my seat of honor.

Everything would be okay, I told myself. I would find a perfect dress that would lessen the pounds, reduce the inches, and, in the process, remove years from this old body of mine. Nothing to worry about, I reasoned. Other mothers of the bride have managed to look good in the wedding pictures. Oh no, the wedding photos! I really did have a major task ahead of me. The search for the perfect dress—forget the bride, she is a size 6 and everything looks great on her—would begin tomorrow.

Eight, 10, 15 dresses later, enthusiasm began to wane. Who designs these mother-of-the-bride dresses? Obviously, it is someone without even a minimal amount of fashion sense. The styles are geared to dowdy, aged individuals who want to cover any semblance of womanliness. To add a feminine touch, these polyester creations are dotted with sequins and other shiny adornments that draw even more attention to the formless garments of taupe, navy blue and black, still more shades of taupe, and a few selections in royal blue and mauve. These would never do!

More stores, even those whose offerings cost more than a subcompact automobile, didn’t have a dress that was anywhere near perfect. Also, some size 16 dresses didn’t fit. Misery and self-disgust about my large size completely removed what little joy I had. I was ready to give up completely.

As my daughter’s happiness continued to grow with successful completion of each detail of the wedding, I renewed my enthusiasm for finding “the dress” and started an almost-no-food diet. I would lose the 40 pounds and find a dress in eight weeks. I could do this!

One dress, then another was chosen, some from the internet, then returned. Blue, yellow, peach and green creations came into the house only to be taken out within days. At the same time, diet success was stalled as nervous eating led to one comfort food after another. This madness had to stop. And it did. All it took was my sewing machine.

I created a perfect dress. I let out those areas that needed extra inches and took in those that didn’t. The pink creation answered all my desires. And, the diet? It will have to wait. My new goal is to have the weight off when my other two children have their weddings, which, I hope, won’t be for at least five years. In the meantime, I began getting a restful night’s sleep…until another dreaded thought crossed my mind. What about the shoes?