Last weekend, I went to what I thought was going to be a formal city wedding. I wrote about what I might wear to it here. I did go with the draped COS navy dress, without the shoulder pads as I couldn’t find them, cinched with a leopard print belt (worn above my fat tummy) and with a navy J+ fitted jacket, nude fishnets and blue platform pumps. I wore my hair up in a high bun and I never managed to put any lipstick on in the taxi because I was too busy writing the card.
The event itself was ok; I hope the bride and groom had a good time, but for me it was more like attending a wine networking evening. It was hard work for the first trimester – no-one can tell that I was pregnant and the pre-dinner reception was standing and mingling, with champagne and oysters. I asked for my sparkling water in a champagne glass so as to try and be more discreet. Supper itself was quite fun, albeit at tiny long tables with no room for anything on the tables. All of the side dishes for the starters were no doubt made with raw egg, so it was undressed crab [which came whole and had to be broken up to eat] and beetroot salad. This was followed by brill, again undressed, and suckling pig with greens and new potatoes. Husband tells me that it was all delicious but I found it all so greasy I could barely eat much. Coupled with saying no to fantastic wine with every course and a nose bleed part way through the main course, I found it all a little trying. Eventually I asked the waiter for a soft drink which he brought in the bottle, getting me some funny looks. People were also surprised I refused the vodka shot served with pudding. It was then dancing in the bar area or more mingling back in the restaurant, where people, very drunk and no doubt who never would have bothered me had I been drinking too, stood too close to me and tried to be funny, but, to me, just came across as annoying. Eventually at 1am I had had enough, was so tired I was contemplating lying down in the loo and wanted something other than sparkling water to drink, decided we had to go and get a taxi.
I don’t really have much advice to others going to similar events in the latter part of the first trimester, save as to say that if you choose not to tell people they won’t make any allowances for you and will expect you to behave just as you used to, or, if they don’t know you, how they expect people to behave; in the instance, to drink a lot and love eating. Two things which are particularly hard. I prepared beforehand by eating two pieces of peanut butter on toast and having a cup of tea, and I was glad I had.
The next wedding we are attending in 3 weeks I suspect will pose more of a problem sartorially but less of a problem verbally. That is, if the scan goes well this week…