Going for Band 6

This has been melt-down week for me, that’s for sure.

In usual Florence style, I haven’t listened to any of the wise words of those around me; Steve, Matt, Carla – even my wise old Mum, and I’ve tried to keep all those plates spinning in the air.
It was only a matter of time before one or two of them whizzed off into the ozone, never to be seen again.

The first plate to fall was the one holding the wedding dress (it would be, wouldn’t it?). I thought I’d been clever, keeping in touch with the bridal shop via email so that I had a clear record of what we’d discussed. I’d kept them in the loop with my weight loss and we’d arranged for a fitting last weekend. My mother was beside herself with excitement and insisted on coming with me, so that she could give me an ‘honest opinion’. She hadn’t seen the dress that I’d chosen up to that point as I knew she would choose me a nice big meringue number if she had her way, so I was expecting a whole bagful of criticism for the simple, flowing off the shoulder design that I’d fallen in love with.

So, we rocked up nice and early and Mum took a seat in the viewing area, armed with a box of tissues for the obligatory tears (tears of disappointment at my choice, Mum said). I went into the changing room with the smiling assistant so she could help me into the dress.

Thinking about the next half hour brings me out in a cold sweat. With the adjustments they’d made, off the shoulder became off the elbow. I could’ve chased myself around in the swathes of material that had been added to the once-perfect dress – I needed a pair of braces to hold it up!

Neither the assistant, Manager or myself could figure out what the hell was going on. It couldn’t have been my dress, yet it looked like the same design and it clearly had my name on it – you can imagine the squeaks of delight coming from my darling Mother. Apparently, this is what happens when you don’t entrust every detail of your wedding to your Mother.

Or when you try to spin too many plates and send emails without first checking the details…

The store manager showed me the email they had received from me, telling them that I was confident that by the time of the wedding in August, I would be a size...20!

I stood there like an anaemic salmon, with my mouth gaping as I realised my mistake. In such a rush to send the email, I hadn’t spotted the typo that should’ve been informing them of my intention to be a size 10 – and even when they’d queried it in a follow-up email I had quite tersely responded by telling them that of course I was sure!

Not content to drop just one plate, I then had to cock-up at work too. Carla had booked me onto the Mentorship for Healthcare Professionals course and all I had to do was turn up and enrol. Quite simple? Not for me! I’d missed the entire enrolment thing and just focused on the study days. So, when I turned up at the university for the first day, they had no clue who I was. I felt like a naughty schoolgirl when they asked whether I’d enrolled the week before. Anyway, thanks to a lot of grovelling and a begging phone call from Carla, they let me stay. I’ve got 2 more study days, 3 e-learning days and 164 hours of independent studying to complete – all within the next 12 weeks!

In a bit of a blind panic about how much more I could squeeze into my life, I rang my friend/mentor/agony aunt at Recruitment Panda. In her usual calm manner, she suggested we get together over a hot chocolate and a sticky toffee muffin so we could have a proper catch up.

It was so good to see her, and as usual, she managed to get me to see the funny side of all my recent cock-ups. As she reminded me, no-one died, and it was just another gentle reminder to slow down a bit. ‘You’ve got your whole life in front of you Florence, relax a bit and enjoy it.’

If anyone else had said that to me, I might have gone blind with the eye-rolling exercises, but she just has this way of getting through to me (I’m thinking of booking my Mother a few lessons with her). As we chomped away on non-Slimming World cake, she reminded me where I was this time last year and made me reel off all the things I had achieved in the last 12 months.

I was a bit gobsmacked to be honest. Have I really done that much? She even said that the way that I speak now shows a much more mature Florence, one who is ready for the challenges of being a Band 6 nurse and a new wife.

Who’d have thought it – little old me (or big old me if you believe my emails!)