Things

Okay so I'm back in Bahrain and have spent the first week in a state of false euphoria and this, my second feeling absolutely dismal. I can't pull myself out of it, I can't get out of this bleakness that wraps its claws around me and permeates all the way to my insides.

But no matter.

I have the following on my mind:-

• Working out every single day is doing nothing but giving me a monster appetite. I am constantly ravenous and cannot just nibble on a rice cake for dinner. It's a balls-out feast every bloody night and I'm starting to wonder whether I should ditch the trainer and return to my previous brittle self (I was skinnier then).

• We have jars of olive paste (a bit like a tapenade) brought over by a family member from Greece. It is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted and I have gone through an entire jar in less than a week all on my lonesome. I eat it on Iranian bread and sometimes, as I sit and chew in the kitchen at midnight, I think of how this lovely melange represents Adonis and me - I am Iranian flatbread and he's olive paste and damn, we go well together.
  

• Why the fuck is the father's consent needed for a marriage in Bahrain when you're, oh I don't know, 26? To hell with this. I'm well not getting married here.

• I am blown away by Brooke Magnanti aka Belle de Jour. I've read everything she's written - books, blog, the lot - and watched the show and can't help but feel slightly cheated. I don't know why I expected a stunner, even though she had previously admitted to being "no great beauty". Still, her sexual escapades and ease with men led me to believe that she must be an absolute traffic stopper. The reality ain't so. I saw a ginger geek with gap teeth and bad skin. However, she is a scientist doing super-smart things so maybe I shouldn't be quite so bitchy.

• Speaking of skin (and hair, and general wellbeing) oh my fuck those Omega 3s. I don't believe in popping pills but this is the best thing to happen to me since the end of adolescence. Take them. They do no harm.

• I discovered that I reject spirituality especially when presented with an eastern slant through the eyes of a westerner. It reeks of bullshit. I don't know what it means. I can't connect. I tried reading Siddhartha and ended up wanting to tear my own hair out. No no. It's not happening.
  

• I go back to Londhino in less than a month and I cannot wait to see the beautiful Christmas lights and drink mulled wine.
  

And I'm out. My brain has atrophied from inactivity. Goodnight yall.

The dress that found me

There's a feeling you get when something goes your way. My last few posts have been gushing wildly but when it's good, it's good.

I had spent the last week packing things and sending them off and trying to have a very broad-brush plan so I can appear organised and make myself feel better without seeming like I need to control it all. I'd make lists that were purposely in the wrong order say, or leave things to the last minute so they'd look spontaneous when in reality they weren't. Organised chaos was what I was looking for but in reality I ended up looking and feeling quite schizophrenic. So to calm myself down, I decided to go looking for a wedding dress a couple of days ago.

I didn't want anything wedding-y. I'm sure many people have said that they abhor the creampuff-let's-play-princess-and-fulfil-a-fantasy-I've-had-since-I-was-5 style dress but judging by what I've seen in weddings and in wedding dress shops, I'd say that's a bold-faced lie. So I went out with an open mind and a firm desire not to shop at a wedding dress shop.

"A cocktail dress, really," was what I told Adonis when quizzed on my preferred look. And so we looked for my "cocktail dress" here and there and everywhere until we found a breathtakingly beautiful Ralph Lauren gown that was so beautiful, I had to sit down.

It was layers of dusty pink and gold lace shot with more gold somehow, fitted bodice, dropped waist, strapless and flowingly ethereal. I picked it up as I walked around the shop and twirled for my husband-to-be. He said, "Wow." However, the dress being a one-of-a-kind Ralph Lauren, it was, quite expectedly, not my size. And frankly, quite impossible to alter. I needed to be twice the height I am now and in heels to maybe have had a chance in hell of carrying this off. So I let it go with a heavy heart.

But me being me and stubborn as hell, I wanted something similar. I went around looking and looking and finding fault with all presented to me.

One dress was "something I'd wear at someone else's wedding - not my own"
Another one was "too satiny"
Yet another was "too ordinary"
And finally one made me say, "Hello boobs"

Making our way to the bus stop from Bond Street, we decided to take a quick look at one wedding dress shop. Giggling I told the lady I want a wedding dress. She sent me away with a catalogue and we sat in the bus flipping through and earmarking a few dresses we liked.

Then we saw one dress which was decidedly lovely. It was also un-wedding-y yet unabashedly bridal and special and unusual and it was my dress. So, the very next day I called up to book an appointment (a "first try") and got swept away in all that is bridal.

The dress deserves its own paragraph. It looks a little bit vintage but timeless. Fitted bodice layered with fluid halterneck chiffon, dropped waist and detailing around that area and lace from there on downwards. Clearly a flowing dress and one that will look phenomenal with towering heels and an updo. Also a dress where I can frolic which is what I intend to do at my own wedding. I am so tempted to post a picture but something tells me that ain't right.

Anyway, that was it. That was my dress. And Adonis got it for me. And I pick it up next month. And corny as it may sound, it was exactly how it was supposed to be because I never found the dress really. The dress found me.

My life in cardboard

I'm packing things and all I can think about are boxes. I have many boxes. I love boxes. I wish I lived in a box.

So the plan is to get out of here and go home and have my fiance join me later. The next plan is to go to Australia in December and the plan after that is to have a little party then jet off on a honeymoon which lasts ages. Oh my word, a lot to look forward to and many many plans. But first I must put things in boxes.

London, goodbye. Good while it lasted. Still, a little bit soul-destroying but I think everyone needs to have their souls a little destroyed.

I'm looking forward to the big picture, not so much the micro, immediate side of things. I think maybe a little list is in order to help me out -

Things to do when I get back

• Hire a personal trainer and work out every day
• Eat Froot Loops
• Learn Greek
• Look for a temporary apartment for Adonis
• Look for something a little more long term for us
• Plan the honeymoon
• Have mum plan the wedding
• Check out the new addition to the family - Cousin JJ

So all will be well hopefully, once I ship off these stupid boxes.