I don't want to be melodramatic, but yesterday a piece of me died just a little. In one fell swoop, my self-respect was mortally wounded. I was subjected to the shame that only women can truly understand. It is the humiliation, the horror, the complete ignominy that is ....dum dum daaaaa...THE BRIDESMAID DRESS.
I'm not going to say that my sister is evil, but she is. I know, the wedding day is all about the bride and whatnot, but do the bridesmaids have to look heinous just to make the bride look better? In those bridal magazines, they must have a To Do List like this:
1. Pick out invitations - check.
2. Pick out china pattern-check.
3. Find bridesmaid dresses that will make the attendants look like tinfoil-wrapped sausages ready to pop on the barbeque - check.
My sister is a smart woman in most ways, so I'm baffled that she suddenly thought that silver bridesmaid dresses bought sight unseen on the internet would be a swell idea. It wasn't. When the dresses came, my other sister and I made a suicide pact over them. We're not wearing them.
First of all, besides being bright shiny silver, the material is reminiscent of parachute pants, circa 1985. Being only two years old at that time, I was blessed to miss that trend, but I saw it on the VH-1 I Love the 80's show. It must have been a hideous time for fashion.
Despite providing our measurements to this shady internet company, we both received dresses that would be roomy on Rosie O'Donnell. The neckline on mine was down to my bellybutton and the length was about three feet too long.
We went to get alterations done yesterday and it is clear that although both of us are far from fat, we are going to look like portly aluminum-swaddled walking baked potatoes that make swooshy noises every time we move. We might as well make it Hammer Time and sing "You can't touch this" as we walk down the aisle. There will be photo AND video evidence of this disgrace.
My oldest sister didn't fuck me over like this - she got married by a swimming pool and we all got to wear our bikinis for the ceremony. Middle sister decides to make up for years of being ignored because she wasn't the oldest or the youngest and make us look like refugees from a backwoods prom.
If I ever get married, which I WON'T, but if I do, middle sis will get hers. Oh yes. She will pay.