Special thanks to JasmineGreen for encouraging me to turn my scattered ideas into a story and for reviewing and making it better. Thanks also to Barelyawriter for helping me develop some of the basic ideas for the story.
*****
I thrashed in my hotel bed, frustrated and unable to sleep. Once again, I checked the nightstand clock: 1:48 am. I let out a deep sigh. The wedding was scheduled for 2:00 pm, so it might seem like I still had plenty of time, but I was supposed to meet the other bridesmaids for breakfast at 8:30 (which I could probably skip) and we had a hair and makeup session right after that (which I really couldn't skip) and then we had to pick up the dresses, eat lunch with Bridezilla, get to the church early...
It was going to be a full day and it would've been nice to face it well-rested. After everything else that had gone wrong, I didn't want to be the bridesmaid who passed out during the ceremony.
*****
Kimberly the bride-to-be was hardly my best friend, and I was surprised she asked me to be in her wedding. After the fact, it seems obvious to me that people who knew her better than I did were wise enough to steer clear. I guess I kind of got dragged into it because my cousin Samantha was close friends with her, and someone else cancelled out kind of late.
I lived in the Los Angeles area, which is also where Kimberly and most of her friends were from. But her fiancΓ©e was from Phoenix, so that's where the wedding was booked. The people in the wedding party who were from SoCal, like me, were put up in a rambling, resort-style hotel which was also where the reception and the pre-wedding activities would happen.
At first, it seemed like it was going to be a fun little weekend getaway. I flew up late on Friday night, decided at the last minute to splurge on a rental car so I could sightsee a little, and drove to the hotel.
As I was checking in, I ran into Marcus, the groom-to-be. I didn't know him super-well, but I'd met him before when he was down in LA visiting Kimberly. He's a great-looking guy, an absolute god to be honest, and very sweet. He greeted me and we talked for a bit, and then a bit more, and I was feeling this warm little spark that I probably shouldn't have. When Kimberly suddenly showed up out of nowhere, I was startled a tiny bit and probably had a guilty look on my face, and Marcus maybe did too. I'm not sure if Kimberly noticed, but she did sort of drag him away and the smile she greeted me with seemed a bit tight and forced.
I should have recognized it as a warning of things to come.
Saturday morning, we had a wedding party breakfast, and then the party split up into smaller groups that all had Stuff To Do.
I went with Kimberly and her bridesmaids to a bridal store where we had final fittings for our dresses. I'd been measured in LA a week earlier and the measurements were sent to the shop in Phoenix, but of course long-distance stuff like that doesn't always work out perfectly.
In my case it certainly didn't. Maybe the dressmakers didn't believe my measurements or just weren't used to skinny little bodies with big boobs and long legs. My dress was way off, and I was sent off with one assistant while the other girls, whose dresses only needed minor adjustments, were handled by a different assistant.
Fortunately, the girl who was helping me knew what she was doing. She took the waist in nice and tight, fixed the bustline problem by lowering it considerably, and decided to leave the hem short because I have the legs for it. She pinned everything in place and let me twirl in the mirror and have a look. I had to say, even though I wasn't crazy about the dress design (what bridesmaid ever is), it looked really nice on me, even pretty hot, once it fit me properly. I was smiling, the assistant was happy that I was happy, and all was good.
Enter Bridezilla.
"What the fuck is this?" Kimberly snapped as she stormed into the alcove where I was being fitted. "Why the fuck are you just re-designing the dress?"
"We had to adjust the..." started the assistant, but Kimberly waved her off and glared at me.
"Haven't you ever been to a wedding before?" she snarled. "The basic concept is the bridesmaids all wear the same dress. They all look the same." I took a deep breath.
"They are the same," I said, keeping my voice calm. "It just didn't fit right, it needs some adjustments."
I watched as Kimberly literally turned red, her face twisted in anger.
"Is this your wedding?" she asked, her voice getting louder and shriller.
"No."
"Whose wedding is it?"
"Yours."
"THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ARGUING WITH ME?"
My face was burning and my pulse was pounding. My blood was filled with rage and humiliation. The other bridesmaids and employees looked on uncomfortably, maybe wondering if they should jump in on one side or the other.
But there really weren't two sides, I realized. Even if she was being a complete bitch about it, she was right: this was her wedding, her Big Day. I took a deep breath and swallowed.
"Sorry," I croaked in a shaky voice. Kimberly glared at me for a few more heartbeats as if daring me to say something else. I didn't. She turned her anger back to the assistant.
"This isn't Project Runway," she said. "You're not getting paid to be brilliant. Just do your job, make her dress look like the others."
If she'd just left it there, it would've been fine. But she didn't. She stomped around the shop gathering up her stuff, since her part was done, while everyone else maintained that uncomfortable silence. And then she delivered her parting shot.
"If you want to have your boobs hanging out, if you want your dress so short your ass shows, do it on your own time," she said. "But nobody's gonna look like a slut at my wedding."
One of the other bridesmaids gasped, but no one said anything. I felt hot tears of anger and shame, but I blinked them back as Kimberly stormed out.
"She doesn't mean it," my cousin Samantha mumbled. "It's just nerves." Nobody else spoke to me as the rest of them departed, leaving me behind with the sullen, angry shop assistants to re-fit my dress.
I wanted strip off the dress, throw it in the trash, drive straight to the airport and just fly home. Fuck Kimberly and fuck the wedding. I really gave it serious consideration.
Why didn't I? I guess there's still a little girl inside me that believes in fairy tale weddings; a part of me that hopes if I ever have a wedding, people around me will put up with me even if I'm freaking out and will still try to make my Big Day a perfect day.
I guess there's still a little princess inside of me that hopes I won't be always a bridesmaid and never a bride.
*****
Later we had the rehearsal, followed by the rehearsal dinner. At the rehearsal, I did my best to keep a low profile and stay out of Kimberly's way. She pretty much ignored me, so apparently I was doing a good job.