The Skinny On Being A Plus-Size Bridesmaid
I’m on the borderline of sizes between plus and misses — a 14/16 that can easily fill an 18 after a Snickers bar. So, every time one of my friends takes the plunge, I have to try to squeeze into dresses that look great on all the other, thinner girls. I get to sport that skin sausage look, which, although unflattering, helps me get lucky with the single groomsmen — they look at me and can tell I’d do anything to get out of the tight dress.
For once, I’d like to wear a dress that fits me and doesn’t cause post-traumatic dress disorder. It’s not any of the brides’ faults, they are true friends. Most boutiques and designers only go up to a size 8, 10, or 12 at best. What am I supposed to do, sew two dresses together?! Or, the shops are strictly for big beautiful women and they only go from 14 up. What are those skinny girls supposed to do, cut the dress in half? Here’s how each bridesmaid dress fitting goes. We pick out a bunch of stuff we all like, which is an arduous task in itself. Next, the size 2s, 4s, 6s, and 8s have no problem getting their size in any of the options. The saleslady says, “We don’t have your size, so here’s the biggest we do have,” and I give it a try. Of course, it never fits me. My underarm fat is spilling over, my back fat is folding over the waist, and I can’t get the thing to slip over my butt. But it looks beautiful on everyone else! And I’m left feeling guilty for being more than a handful.
Once, I gave in when we hit a store with a 14. I agreed to get the dress taken out and wear Spanx. The whole night of the wedding, I was worried it would split if I sat down, and I didn’t even eat dinner. And you know I was hungry after shakin’ what my momma gave me on the dance floor! I’ll never do that again. From there on out, I decided to wear dresses that really fit or nothing at all.
Once, everything worked out and it was sorta magical, for a second. I was a bridesmaid for my friend whose sister-in-law was five months pregnant. I had to buy the same size dress as she did. I wasn’t going to back out on being in the bridal party over a label issue, but the shop’s saleslady put her arm around me and cheerily said, “Don’t feel bad, now you know you’ve got the perfect diet buddy.” Um, her weight is a baby. Mine is a booty. And I’m not the only one who wants to hold onto it!
If there’s one thing worse than the frustration of not being able to fit into anything, it’s getting sympathy for not being able to fit into anything. I’m just fat, people! Save your back pats and sad faces for folks who have actual problems. A wedding is a happy occasion worth celebrating, all I need is a little more material to work with.
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