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Bridesmaid Reflections: A Journey of Confidence
I recently attended my friend Jenna’s wedding, and let me tell you, she was the most chill bride I’ve ever encountered—definitely not a Bridezilla. In contrast, I found myself spiraling into a whirlwind of anxiety. What was my deal? Was it just about being almost 40 and losing one of my last single friends? Or was it the pressure of socializing at the wedding events with people I barely knew? Maybe it was the extra weight I was carrying and the fact that I didn’t even have a date to bring along. But the real source of my anxiety? The dress.
Picture the scene: that one bridesmaid you see in photos, awkwardly standing behind the others, trying to hide her perceived flaws. If the dress is sleeveless (which they always seem to be), you can bet she’s the one draped in a shawl, clutching her bouquet just right to cover up her insecurities. Yep, that was me—the “big” bridesmaid.
Jenna kindly let us choose our own dresses as long as we stuck to her selected color and fabric. No surprise there! She’s one of those friends who can make anyone feel like a million bucks. Honestly, when I picked out my dress, I thought maybe I could channel the vibe of a model from a bridal magazine.
This wasn’t my first rodeo with self-doubt and ill-fitting bridesmaid dresses. Back in 1987, my sister’s wedding involved bridesmaids who were all petite and slender, while I was a tall 17-year-old who stood out like a sore thumb. I remember the dress was an outrageous late-80s monstrosity, and I was forced into a strict diet and workout regime to fit into it. In the end, I wore a different dress altogether, which led to accusations of sabotage. The marriage didn’t last, but the memories of that day lingered.
Fast forward to Jenna’s wedding, and I had vowed to outsmart the whole dress disaster. I ordered a dress three sizes too big, feeling proud of the 46 pounds I’d shed since my friend asked me to be a bridesmaid. When I finally tried the dress on, however, reality hit hard. Despite the extra room around my waist, the zipper flat-out refused to budge past my chest.
My mom’s less-than-encouraging comment about not needing a date only added to my frustration. As I looked in the mirror, I was taken back to my childhood—wearing a dress for a school pageant that was so much simpler than this. I felt like I was wrapped in yards of “Electric Hemorrhoid,” and it didn’t help that I couldn’t see my worth beyond the dress.
Desperate for a solution, I turned to Facebook for help and ended up seeking out a local seamstress. The fitting was a humbling experience as I faced my measurements head-on. The seamstress worked her magic, and when I picked up the dress, it finally fit me, even if it didn’t turn me into a beauty.
On the wedding day, as I stood beside Jenna, her proud smile reminded me of the years of friendship we shared. She didn’t see the “old, fat bridesmaid”—she simply saw her friend. It made me realize that perhaps I needed to start believing in myself as much as she believed in me. I would do it all over again if it meant honoring my friend and learning to love myself a little more in the process.
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Summary:
This piece reflects on the emotional journey of being a bridesmaid, focusing on self-image and body confidence during wedding preparations. The author shares personal struggles with fitting into a dress and the realization of self-worth through the support of a close friend.