Size Matters

My sister has just spent more than $5,000 on a wedding gown that is too small for her.

Let me repeat: My totally crazy sister has just spent about two and a half months’ rent for a gown that is guaranteed to make her grumpy, anxious, and plain terrified almost every minute of the next four months. (It’s also guaranteed to make my life miserable, but let’s not go there.)

Why did she do this? Because she is a size 10 – she’d say she was an 8, but personally I think the 8s are too tight on her -- and in the ludicrous world of wedding sizes, she was told she’d need a 16. This is the girl who – no matter how much she loves the item – will not buy it in a 10 if the 8 is comically tight, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. But $5,000 for a dress that you know won’t fit? $5,000 for at least four months of misery, worrying that every cookie or bit of bread or avocado or cheese might be the difference between your gown fitting and not fitting?

She ordered the dress on Monday – incidentally, it was not one of the gowns we saw together, but one that shall heretofore be referred to as the Pretty in Pink dress. A la the Molly Ringwald movie, it looks like the combined version of two very different and very embellished gowns, and is about as attractive as the mishmash pink prom gown.

I mean, yuck. (And ohmygod do I fear the little frock of horror Her Highness may soon decree that I wear.)

But back to the size issue. I told her as nicely as possible that I thought she should think hard about switching her order to the size suggested while she still could, because weight does not always come off where you want it. I tried to remember that she does not have the issues I have with weight loss – faced with that kind of pressure, I bet I would just binge.

I said gently that I thought she was stressed out enough trying to plan a big wedding without a lot of help, but she cut me off.

“I am not a 16,” she snapped, in a low, dark tone.

“Of course you’re not,” I started to say.

Again she cut me off. “I knew I never should have told you. I have to run. I’m late to ballroom dance class.”

And with that, Bridezilla slammed down the phone.