wedding bells and cockle shells

ITS ALL ABOUT THE SMILE....


THERE IS A RING..AND MOST DEFINITELY THE ABSENCE OF BLING...
BUT NO TRAVELLING PANTS...:) THE ENGAGEMENT.

October 2010...was when the wedding bells told for me, and my greatest stress was that the travelling wedding pants, having been banned from baby brothers wedding would definitely not see the light of day on this one.

shortly after little brother made his intentions known, my dad turned his beady eyes on the only single sibling left, and said, "my dear what are your plans?",.."you cannot be dating forever, not good for you or Albert. predictably i was off to dinner with boyfriend to discuss the matter, long term dating is never an option in the Indian family, being Muslim, makes it all the more trying, not to mention all the snoopy men at mosque, were trying to fish out the seriousness of our relationship.

so over serious dinner discussion, do not ask me where or when, i fail to remember such trivial things, we decided..(much to my surprise, marriage being definitely not on my radar)to become MR and MRS, no, not Smith,...i am months later still wondering what all the bruhaha is all about, the news of impending nuptials spread faster, then a brush fire in the Australian outback, i got calls from excited family and friends thanking God, calling on his greatness, for saving the last spinster in the family from the inglorious state of singledom, God had finally made me accept a marriage proposal and all was well with the world again.

i am now of the opinion, that being single was not considered "lekker", and it was possibly a punishment from God,...you think i might attain heaven now that i am a Mrs,..God i hope you are listening, if you are, could i win the lottery please? a million would do nicely thank you.

it came to pass, in a rather low key affair (by Indian standards)on the 6th of February 2010, i became an engaged woman,...we were truly moving into the rainbow nation, Albert is of Portuguese and Afrikaans decent, and i am a true blue Gujarati,..my ancestry could have some Arab or Chinese thrown in who knows,..
my mother in law, put a pretty gold chain around my neck, my fiance a pretty diamond ring on my finger, and without the long drawn out speeches, and prayers thanking the Gods, without ululating, or any of the grand fanfair that goes with the occasion, i had committed myself to....MARRIAGE!!!....oh dear.

understandably my mother was rather quiet, a little smile but no great enthusiasm, well, i had been with her for 41 long years, and now what the hell was i doing?, in that moment i was being dazzled by diamond rings..ok, ok..i am not that mercenary, and poor husband is yet to cough up the goodies, that comes with marrying into an Indian family,...what did you think we gave away our daughters cheaply,...oh dear me no.

The run up to the wedding was the right royal pain in the ass i thought it would be, there was no chance of missing out at the office to plan a wedding, so it all got done, in between moments, there is a reason, i don't like weddings, and my own was proving to be no different, the dress, the hair, the venue, the caterer, the list is endless, and oh the guest list, which lead to many an argument, i was pushing for 100 guests, my dad was "you cannot get away with under 300", 300, i don't know 300 people, and really all i was interested in was the party, we settled on the 2nd of October 2010, which coincidentally, ok i lie, by no mere coincidence is also the 45th wedding anniversary of my parents, who i am sure after many an argument, all wedding related, could not wait for the 2nd to come fast enough. getting rid of me was proving to be acceptable, and at some point, they were willing to do this for free and for gratis.

as luck would have it, i could not have been bothered with a dress, thanks to the generosity of Aadil, who called the dress guy, Michael and finally pushed me into going to check him out, we were on the road to dress heaven...my only brief, i do not want to look like a meringue. i also did not relish the thought of a gazillion dress fittings, which are aggravating and the damned dress always looks crap, since i was lazy, i also got some fabric, prior to seeing Michael, and went off to another clients recommendation, just 1km up the road, the long and the short of it was that i ended up with two wedding dresses, not having the heart to tell Chantal..that i had another dress, when i got her bill, i realised my inability to say no, had just cost me a small fortune, no matter i now have another dress, that i will never wear again, but hey it rocked on the night.

i was still at this point not running a fever or jumping with excitement at the thought of getting married, my brain was still trying to comprehend what all the fuss was about, and the constant are you excited? question was starting to drive me insane, excited about what, i had met someone, and we had decided to make a life together, was i nervous? no, was i excited? no, this all seriously felt like another day at the office, with more work thrown in, to fill my already full working day.

perhaps it was my lack of stress, or excitement, perhaps i was to old to feel the jitter bug, perhaps i was being to pragmatic, hell, there were a multitude of perhapes, i could have dreamed up, three weeks before my party (because weddings are just to fake). the wedding planner (ya right)..i had done all the planning, just needed the guy to provide tablecloths and food, turned out to be the biggest "wanker" (literally) of all time, he wanted to bill me for two weddings, give me a break, the venue was mine until midnight, our plan was to utilise it for that long, as we were going to party,and enjoy 45 years of marital bliss, as well.

but Muslim weddings don't have music and dancing and Indians eat, take the gift and fuck off, before the bride even leaves the venue, so really his staff only worked till 5. this wedding was a Saturday afternoon luncheon, that would go into dancing in the evening,two bills? , give me a kit kat, i was about to swat him from here back to the teeny tiny village in Gujarat he hailed from.furthermore i had the audacity to have an opinion or idea on what i wanted the venue to look like, to cut a long story short, i told him to shove his drapes, masquerading as tablecloths where the sun does not shine, and took my pissed off ass back to the office.

suffice to say the wanderers club, have not yet returned my money, and the wanker Aadil, "i have no qualifications as a wedding planner" and certainly no taste; is still contracted to the club as their halaal caterer.

thanks to my mum and a great tip, we found an alternate venue, with a great chef, and staff that were efficient and happy to do the job, there were no need for vapours and stress hives, we moved on, to celebrate the day with much laughter and happiness, the DJ played until the bewitching hour, we ate drank, and made merry and celebrated the 45th wedding anniversary of my parents surrounded by new family, great friends and the best tea totalling party anyone ever had the misfortune to attend got us off to the start of a happy married life together. honestly weddings aren't so bad after all, when your friends really want to be there, and your family love a party, then it is the happiest most fun filled day a couple will enjoy, the stuff happy memories are made of

since then, all i ever get asked, "so how is married life?'...are you happy?"..hell would i have gotten married if i was not happy?, would i remain married if i was not happy?, how is married life really?....its fun people, it's like a comfortable old shoe, you can never give away, its dishes, and laundry, its bad movies and a barrel of laughs, it's good morning breath, and hot showers, its just every day life, with a person, who doesn't mind seeing your wake up hair, and unmade up face. who looks at your miserable face in the morning and says "good morning my gorgeous wife"..it's knowing that and loving that..and enjoying that forever feeling.

its definitelly not wedding bells and cockle shells....

even the wedding is history

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wow, i am obviously overly busy,(or so i would like to believe ) my last post was in February when baby brother got engaged, so much has happened since.
Arshad is now married two months and two days to be exact. the newly weds are not so new anymore, and seem to be enjoying the first flush of the marriage cycle.

i almost had nothing to wear, yes the travelling pants, and a myriad of accompanying jackets,tops,and sweaters, were banned from this wedding. the sister of the groom, had to look at least a teensy bit blinged out. so after two months of ferrying the mother of the groom, and my beloved mum, to the dress guy, for the umpteenth time, i succumbed, purchased some beautiful velvet, and a rather funky looking, almost under wear type fabric, and i was giving the getting a dress made thing a shot.

so,.. he said i had saddle bags, I'm a bit overweight, he suggested a corset, at which point, i could have burst a blood vessel,..under no circumstances, was i going to subject myself, to feeling like a trussed up chicken,even for baby brothers wedding. i should have known, that this was going to go south.

on the day of the big reveal, just two weeks before the wedding, the MAN delivers my eagerly awaited dresses, yes plural, this was after all an Indian wedding, wedding on Saturday, walimah on Sunday....and no wedding pants, i was doomed and i new it.

the dresses (plural) were about the most hideous excuse for a garment, i had ever encounted, and i did not want to have to say, i told me so, a psychotic amount of money later, i was as belligerent as a two year old being denied, sweets, in a candy store, there, was not a chance in hell, that these garments would ever see the light of day...so i made a big shout out to friends on facebook, got some great responses, and took myself off to Hyde park shopping centre. all i can say is that HIP HOP rocks, ( thanks Leonie )first dress i tried on, was a shoe in, the deal was done, i was dressed, no stress, no endless fittings, no sales lady commenting on my saddle bags, 42 year old tummy, or that little bit of extra weight, that i regularly bemoan, but do nothing about.

the dress mind you, was rejected by Natasha my sister in law, who is tall, puts twiggy to shame, and could wear anything, so thanks sis..and all because she cant stand velvet..the next day, the little bolero, that came with the dress, teamed with another off the peg number from a chain store, ET voila!!..dressed for Arshads walimah, recycled clothing no less,...shhhh!!, don't let the word get out, or my upmarket neighbours, and the debutantes of this neighbourhood, will have another reason, to tilt the blue noses away from me, or is that because of the rather cold winter we are having.

the wedding itself, was a wedding..what can i say, i rather think, that my own, would also be just another, excuse for an elaborate lunch, where people will fall all over themselves to be the best dressed turkey at the ball. Arshad wanted to kill the photographer, the couple spent their entire wedding, smiling for the camera, should they not have been celebrating with guests, eating, the great food, that was on offer, instead, they smiled, and spent all night in the glare of the photographers spotlight, take it from me, get your pictures done before the reception, so you can at least enjoy some of your wedding.

ahhh!!! lest i forget, weddings have nothing to do with bride and groom, but more to do with proud parents, and overly dressed turkeys, all who come to see and be seen, and then, dissect your function, over tea, with the ladies the very next day, all the while, the newly weds, spent happy oblivious moments, looking into each others eyes, and the hapless, sister of the groom, takes matters into her own hands, to get them out of the photographers clutches, and the insane family, queueing for their picture with bride and groom,...so that the overly tired couple can be whisked off to their hotel, for some alone time, and much needed sleep.

yes sleep, after two weeks of indian wedding, there is nothing the love struck couple will ever do but try to sleep,...since the next morning, the three ringed circus begins a new. so a solid nights rest, is left for the honeymoon, as well as exploring, the best reason, for really getting married right?....its all legal.

the two weeks of wedding activity, went off rather well, and the newly weds jetted off to Mauritius, and the way Arshad describes it, a trip to Goa, might be more exciting.despite our choice of walimah venue, the fundos, also pitched, eek, going through that casino, rubbed a few noses out of joint, but the thought of succulent prawns, and mango desert must have clinched the deal.

my love hate relationship with weddings continues, there is no end in sight, perhaps when i am carried off to my final resting place, i will find some peace with it all.
bring it on, to add to my travelling wedding pants, we now have a midnight blue gown...lets hope that middle age spread can be contained, so the dress sees, the light once more.

azaad and dadi at the wedding


flight sa 537 to durban


durban international


on the beach


full moon over umdloti

getting back from a break is never much fun, getting off a flight knowing you have a wedding to attend, definite bummer, in my case friends and family never seem to spread these occasions out during the year. no imagination, people always choose a specific month, i am all for elopement, or just a simple nikaah without the additional reception, even worse we are into the walimah story, it is sunat didn't you know?

hell everything is sunat, doesn't mean we have to rush out and do it, does it?
as i have stated previously weddings always bring out the pooky face, it is really scary, pouty lips, sullen face, though i always manage to smile and be nice when i arrive at the function.this time i opted for a sari, half way into the draping, hot and frustrated, the garment was flung aside to make way for the travelling black pants, and the something summery to go with it, sandled feet and some make up,...the effort required in wearing the sari, was just too much to handle, after months of rain, this weekend was a scorcher. and draping folds of fabric, on my overheated body, which i might add is larger than the last time, i wore a sari, was too much to handle, the additional fold around my somewhat larger waist line, was just to much to handle.

who can i blame? just me, as i noticed the increased weight and couldn't have been bothered, know i am bothered, as always though i will not do much about it,lol.
i have vowed to be more regular at the gym, perhaps walk a bit more, i realise at the middle aged mark, loosing the extra roll, is not that easy anymore. the love handles cling with a tenacity as never before.though wider of hip,middle age is also a happier place,a little extra roll doesn't have you rushing for diet pills,south beach diets,or worrying about what other people might think. if you have the compulsion to attempt a diet, it will be because that is what you want, looking good in a sari, might be another reason :)

so my pleasant relaxed break, ended with a trip to the dreaded wedding,this time nephew was invited so his presence, alleviated much of the tedium,however it was evident to the other guests at the table, that this is the first grandchild, the camera was ready, and he was being fussed over,i hate the idea of babies at weddings and hear we were, baby in tow ugggh, not good. however our hosts were insistant that we would be in attendance, so azaad had his first wedding trip. being the dutyfull aunt i introduced him to the eligable girls, nephew was having none of that, he was the model of good behaviour all night,however i am still of the opinion, that kids and weddings are taboo, judging by the number of kids at saturday nights wedding, i am definitely in the minority on this.

next weekend walima, i just can't get enough...though this time i am definitely giving the travelling pants a rest, a lady does get bored.

umdloti, was a little slice of heaven, no telephones, no work, just the sun,sea,and a good book,just what the doctor ordered.