Originally posted by WPRESTO After we were engaged, before we were married, M cooked dinner for me regularly. She had purchased a wedding dress that was simple, figure-hugging and fit her like a glove (I had not seen it of course). She feared adding even a few ounces to her weight so she could a smallish meal, then divided into two precisely equal portions telling "That's enough food for anyone." So at the wedding, her dress fit perfectly, but my suit, bought year before, required safety pins hitches around the belt line and the jacket fit me like a hand-me-down from a much larger older brother.
I'll do ya one better. My wife and I met as freshmen in college, fall of 1974. We were both of that group of boomers that missed being actual hippies, so we were wanna-be's. She wore jeans and workboots, shirts and headscarves, some beads on occasion. Never makeup. In 1980 we married at her family's catholic church (a concession to her mother). She wore her mother's vintage dress which really was beautiful--knee length. I wore a hand me down tux.
2 problems. The tux was a 42, and at the time maybe I was a 38. So I was swimming in it. And I was undernourished due to temporary poverty, and living a bit of a life of dissipation (not serious, mild). So, I swam in the tux. Meanwhile, she had her more savvy friends help her with her makeup. Now, it was an evening wedding so it was presumed that the lighting would be subdued. So, the friends amplified her makeup a bit.
Well, the church was actually lit up like a dang stadium, super bright. So, with my oversize tux and raccoon eyes from my hard living, plus my semi emaciation, and with her now looking like she'd been painted up for who knows what, we looked like bride of Frankenstein and a cadaver.
Fortunately we didn't hire a photographer, but relied on friends who didn't do a good job.