Yours Truly Read Free

corseted top covered in silver sequins and diamante and a huge, puffed skirt held up with reams of stiff netting.
    “ Is this for the hen night? ” I ask, stroking the satiny material. Better than the slutty Moulin Rouge outfits Dionne initially suggested. This isn’t so bad. I can wear this. I can have a laugh like the rest of them. The second rule of getting married: Everybody looks like a chump on their hen night.
    “ No, you daft git , ” says M um. “ It's a wedding dress. For your wedding . ” She rolls her eyes at Dionne.
    Whaaaaat?
    I look hard at Dionne and wait for her to burst into giggles, unable to hold in the joke any longer.
    She doesn't. She just sighs lovingly at the dress before bestowing it upon me like a midwife with a new born baby. “ We were thinking you could wear a muff and all. And maybe a feathery shrug. ”
    Feathery shrug? And what the pickle is a muff?
    “ What’s a muff? ”
    “ You know. One of those furry mitten things you use to keep your hands warm. They’re all the rage at winter weddings. ”
    A furry mitten thing? Why on earth would my hands be cold at my own wedding? I get a vision of the entire congregation bundled up in colourful scarves and woolly hats. Olly in an expensive, tailor made balaclava. Dove grey to match his morning suit.
    I pull a face of distress.
    “ Try it on then! ” chides M um. “ We'll have to get it taken in. ” Her eyes flicker down towards my stomach. “ Or taken out. There isn't much time. ”
    Is this for real? They haven't actually bought my wedding dress, have they?
    “ A - are you joking? ” I murmur, my cheeks burning.
    They grin at each other, mistaking my question for grateful disbelief
    “ Nope, ” says Dionne. “ We said we'd pay for your dress. Well… here you go! ”
    They did say they would pay for my dress. I didn't mean for them to go out and buy it. Without telling me. Without letting me choose.
    Isn't shopping for a wedding dress supposed to be a rite of passage? The free champagne, the seamstress fussing over me and pretending that she knew as soon as I walked through the shop door which dress I was eventually going to choose. Standing on that wooden box and pretending I'm much taller and slimmer than I really am, picking the dress that I absolutely could not not wear on my wedding day...
    “ It's gorgeous, isn't it, ” Dionne continues, fingering the hooks and eyes of the corset. “ And look at all the diamante! We thought that diamante could be, like, the theme for the entire wedding. ”
    Diamante? As a theme? Oh God. No.
    I silently curse Olly for proposing last week and insisting we get married as soon as humanly possible.
    It was a lovely proposal, mind. He'd gotten a discounted weekend at a health spa in Cheshire and got down on one knee after a delicious meal at the spa's vegan restaurant.
    I look down at the ring displayed pride of place on the third finger of my left hand. A gorgeous heart shaped diamond on a platinum band. It's very shiny.
    I thought I'd have at least a few months to get the wedding sorted, but then Olly surprised me by booking the church for next month.
    “ Natalie, it was a cancellation It was either Christmas Eve or 2014. I’m not waiting till 2014! I want to marry you now! Plus, we get a reasonable discount for taking the space up. ”
    I've had to rely on Mum and Dionne to help organise everything in super quick time. They’ve even been doing this checklist and emailing it to me each time we make even the slightest change to the plans.
    I bury the groan bubbling in my throat. I'm being selfish. Their buying me a dress is just their way of helping to get everything sorted in time.
    I suddenly spot hundreds of little bows stitched in along the hemline of the dress. Bows!
    No. This is ridiculous. People choose their own wedding dresses. That's how it's done! When you think about it, it's bloody out of order to choose someone else’s wedding dress for them.
    But then Mum and Dionne look