Anyone who remembers my post from the beginning of last year entitled, “Here’s one I made earlier” will probably be familiar with the story of making my wedding dress when I was married first time around. It wasn’t a happy tale. It was a catalogue of decisions made on my behalf, a smattering of emotional blackmail, and a few incidences of fat shaming sales assistants in bridal shops. The resulting dress felt second rate, mainly because I was no seamstress and it was in no way something I had chosen. I forced myself to feel proud on the day, because I had, against the odds, produced a bridal gown from scratch, but it was never a dress I’d seen, tried on and fallen in love with.

I’ve had a little obsession in recent years with television programmes like Say Yes to the Dress, Curvy Brides Boutique and even Don’t tell the Bride. I was fascinated by the moment a bride stepped out in front of the mirror in ‘the one’. I loved to see her face light up. Her entourage coo their approval.

I’ve made no secret of wanting to get married again. I have said, I want the chance to have a better wedding day (that is, what I really want) and to do better at marriage itself. I was way too young and naive the first time and ended up manipulated and abused.

I met Martin at the point of his second divorce finalising. I honestly didn’t expect him to want to revisit marriage. But here we are. Planning our wedding for December. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say we’re both happier in this relationship than we’ve been previously. We just fit.

When it came to considering dress shopping, I was honestly pretty overwhelmed. I didn’t know where to start. First I ordered a simple, very reasonably priced gown online. It wasn’t amazing, but it did fit. I consoled myself that if I couldn’t find anything else, it would do. Then I started a conversation with a company that made vintage style wedding dresses. I decided I absolutely wanted a 1950s style swing dress, with all the petticoats and seamed stockings. Until I realised I couldn’t have the lace top to the bodice I wanted without visible bra straps because the gowns from that supplier didn’t have any inbuilt bust support.

Eventually I started Googling bridal boutiques near where I live. I was naturally drawn to the one claiming to cater for curvy brides, so I made an appointment. I contacted my Best Lady and asked if she was free to accompany me. I was delighted when she said she could. We set off in my little car into the depths of the countryside until we arrived at a little trade park in the middle of nowhere.

It was all very plush. A room full of every type of bridal gown you can imagine. I told the consultant how I was dreaming of a tea length, 50s vintage style dress, lots of petticoats, seamed stockings and Mary Jane shoes. And then I added, “But if I find something completely different that I absolutely love, I am happy to keep an open mind.”

I didn’t see any tea length dresses that were even near my size to try on. I was told a number of the full length gowns could be ordered as a shorter length, but I found it hard to envisage what they would look like. So I tried a few of the full length dresses I was drawn to. Until the fourth one. As soon as I was laced in and excess fabric pinned out the way, I knew it was my dress.

My Best Lady said my whole demeanour had changed with dress 4. I had my head up, I was smiling, I apparently looked confident. As I stood on the podium in the shop, and looked in the mirror, a shiver ran through me, manifesting as goosebumps all over my body. I was physically moved by how lovely I looked. My eyes filled with tears. My Best Lady came close and hugged me as we sobbed together. She told me I was beautiful.

My dress is ordered. And we have a date in the diary to go back to shop for a Best Lady dress. I never imagined myself having that breathtaking moment of saying yes to the dress, but my life is peppered with surprises these days. Since I met my person.

I realise now that wanting a shorter, vintage style frock was me sticking with familiar things. If I have an occasion to attend, a swing dress with petticoats is my go-to. I’m comfortable in them, they look nice, they’re familiar. Safe. A stunning, show stopping, full length bridal gown pushes me out of my comfort zone. It’s the dress I felt I never deserved since I was a teenager, because it was too expensive, and I was too fat and not special enough to warrant it. Well I have news for that poor, defeated attitude; no more! I’m wearing that dress. My dress.