Confessions of an Ungrateful Bridesmaid #3: The Dress

In a little less than two weeks I will be a bridesmaid for my baby cousin.

I imagine this will be my last time donning the dress. Even if any of my friends get married for a second or third time, I imagine it'll be a little more low-key and probably no need to get satin shoes dyed.

There are about a bajillion things I love about my cousin, but currently the thing I love most about her is that she is letting all of her bridesmaids pick out their own dresses. Her one condition - make it black.

No, I'm not kidding. That is how effing cool she is. And we all understand how freaking lucky we are - it is with great solemness that we are choosing these gowns. We don't want her to regret her magnanimous decision. Perhaps this will set a new precedent of kindness amongst brides.

A new era of no longer trying to shoehorn your friends into gowns that you have only ever seen on Size 2 models in "Modern Bride". I don't know about you, but I haven't been a Size 2 since I was floating around in amniotic fluid in my mother's uterus.

The idea itself is ridiculous. One dress that looks good on your 3,4,5 or god forbid, 6 closest friends. (Once the peels of laughter subside, read on.)

The truth is, your friend might otherwise be a reasonable woman. An engineer. A marketing executive. A woman who can go into the dressing room with you and tell you whether your ass looks big or your boobs saggy in any given outfit. But all of this rational thinking flies out the proverbial window once she’s planning the wedding.

Anyway, you are no longer her dear friend. You are her dress-up doll. You are not her soul-sister with the massive thighs or confidant with the small(ish) chest. You are Skipper to her Barbie. You now miraculously have smaller hips and a bigger chest because, well dammit, you must. She has been planning this day since age 9. She’s been clipping out dresses in bridal magazines since 18. She’s now in the position of complete and utter power over your life and you’d just better get used to it. Okay, take a deep breath – cause this next part might hurt.

It doesn’t matter what you look like on your friend’s big day. This is not about you. (Gasp!) This is entirely, 100%, without a doubt, about the bride. Okay, take another deep breath and I'll continue.

I know. I have pictures too. Me in a flowing lavender Empire-waist number that should have, by all of the laws of nature, fit like a glove, but instead clung in a most leach-like manner to every bit of cellulite on my body. Or my friend, K, who should have been a wondrous site to behold in the baby blue Vera Wang knock-off. It unfortunately was made of some polyester-blend (I'm pretty sure the original Wang was not) and could apparently not be taken in anymore in the chest (although it did leave plenty of room for Kleenex and her Maid of Honor speech. Both pages.)

The thing is, you just have to suck it up. Don’t go getting an inkling that you are going to shine like the belle of the ball. This is not the prom and you are not the Prom Queen. The big tiara goes to She-Who-Snagged-The-Boy. Get used to it.

Try to remember this: your friend is not trying to ruin your life. Somewhere in that twisted mind she truly believes you look beautiful in that dress. An angel. Leave her be, she’s in love. And the truth is - generations of bridesmaids have been getting laid no matter what sort of ghoulish gown they are wearing, so what's the big stink?

The upside is this: you will never have to wear this dress again! This is it. One day. Oh, I know both the bride and her mother will regale you with tales of shortening it into a cocktail dress or using it at next year’s New Years Eve party. Hogwash. This is $150-$300 dollars of fabric that will never see a profitable return.

Now, I have used old dresses for other occasions and even turned them into other-worldly creations, but dammit - you'll just have to wait until I finish the book. It's taken me thirty-five years to figure this shit out - did you really think I'd give all this knowledge away for free?

I'm not looking to make a million dollars - just enough to recoup the cost of those bridesmaids dresses rotting away in my closet.