The Bridesmaid Dress Debacle

My ongoing struggle with my weight is rearing its ugly, bloated head... One of my best girlfriends, Themis, is getting married, and I adore the guy.  I adore my friend, too.  She's one of those girls you can tell anything to, and she won't judge, she won't hold it against you, she's just there for you no matter how stupid your decisions are.... with all of the stupid decisions I've made in my life, I'm sure she's felt that being my friend is a full-time job.
The point is, I'm happy for her.  I'm even more happy to stand up there in her wedding party as a bridesmaid.  So, here comes the tricky part.... I have bridesmaid dress issues with EVERY wedding I've ever been part of.  From my oldest sister's wedding 12 years ago, to my own (ill-fated) wedding just a few years ago.  Special occasions and special occasion dresses have brought me nothing but panic, misery and panic.

Here's a fun story.... lets take a trip down memory lane....

5 years ago my bestie married the love of her life at a beautiful beach wedding.  She had only 2 bridesmaids, myself and her sister.  My bestie has probably never worn more than a size 4 in her life, so she selected these cute bridesmaid dresses from J. Crew.  J.Crew is not overwhelmingly friendly to the non-anorexic.  But let's be honest here,  I had plenty of time to prepare and lose a few pounds to ensure that I would fit into the dang thing, but I didn't.  I procrastinated, and when I got the dress I realized that J. Crew's largest size (a 16) was like no other 16 I had ever seen.  I COULD NOT GET THE DRESS TO ZIP UP... as in NO WHERE CLOSE.  To make it worse, it's a destination wedding in Florida.  I have no resources in Florida and less than 72 hours to get an impossibly small dress onto my impossibly bloated body.  Seriously, Athena?  You suck. 

THIS is what J. Crew thinks the dress should look like (or the closest modern day version)

So, as I'm driving down to Florida 3 days before the wedding, chain smoking cigarettes and having panic attacks, I'm calling every dry cleaner with alterations that I can possibly 411.  10 minutes before 6:00pm, I pull into this rinky dink alterations place where this little Korean woman strips me down and sucks the sausage skin dress onto my body.  She snapped at me to stop crying so I didn't stain the dress, then asked me why I didn't lose the weight or why I didn't have it altered weeks ago.  How am I supposed to answer that?

"I'm a glutten for punishment and drama. you cruel, sadistic woman....IT'S WHAT I DO BEST!!!"

I leave the alterations place, with NO assurance from my Sadistic Alterations Czar that she would be able to take the dress out enough that I would even be able to zip it up to get down the aisle.  Panic. Tears. Panic.  Plan B.   I call my mom and Themis, both of whom are waiting at the hotel for me, and 'fess up... I need reenforcements.  Mom's recommendation? Tell the skinny bestie bride that I'm an irresponsible fatty and have been lying to her that I've tried on the dress and it looks "SO SUPER CUTE" and find another dress.  I don't take mom's advice, honesty at a moment like this would be CRAZY.  (it may have also been humiliating, but I would never admit that.  Instead, I convince myself that she needs to focus on her wedding and her day and my fat girl issues are my own problem.  I don't need to burden her).  So, I go on an intensive 72 hour, all water, all watermelon, all cigarette, all coffee diet, with the assistance of water retention pills.  I chugged and chugged and chugged the water up until the last day.  I must have peed every 45 minutes for 3 days straight.  Seriously, no effing around here. I don't think I ate a bite at the rehearsal dinner. 

The wedding day comes and it's time to pick up the dress from the Sadistic Alterations Czar and I am nearly hyperventilating.  I arrive.  I get naked.  I put on my Spanx (one size too small, just for some extra suckage) and put on the dress.  The.... zipper........ ZIPS UP.  I cannot breathe.  I cannot move.  I sure as Hell cannot sit.  But the damn dress is physically on my body and its just ever so slightly not obscene. 

As I depart from the Glorious Alterations Genius' quaint little shop, I leave her a rediculous tip and a big hug.  Little did she know, my plan C was to drive my car into a ditch conveniently hospitalizing myself for the ceremony, and miraculously recovering in time for the reception. Selfish, but necessary. I return to the hotel suite, with mom and Themis eagerly waiting for me.  I get my hair done, I get my makeup done, and then, with the help of mom, Themis and my Spanx, I get into the dress and zip that bitch up. I stood stick straight for pictures, walking down the aisle and through the ceremony.  No doubt, I looked like a stuffed sausage with a metal rod up my ass, but I made it through.  For the reception, my awesome mom whipped out an ivory pashmina and I was able to dance, smile and (finally) eat.  Sometime after the 4th glass of wine, the zipper busted open from crack to back, but who cares... it was under the pashmina...

At the end of the evening, mom and Themis had to peel the dress off of me and rip the zipper from its threading.  I had 2 bruises from where the dress was too tight.  I swore.... THIS IS IT.  THIS IS ROCK BOTTOM.  NEVER AGAIN.

Let's fast forward 5 years to today, where I would give my right leg to be anywhere near fitting into that dress again. I don't think I could put it on my right toe.  Oh, I saved the dress.  The moment was so incredibly humiliating... look at that busted out zipper...

I thought it would be such a victorious feeling to put that dress on over my skinny body and have it fall off of me... I'm still waiting on that victory.. So, I'm back in the boat, with 7 months before Themis's wedding... and I feel that feeling again... the panic.


How good would it feel to have a respectable size dress on with a respectable body?  More importantly, why can't I get over myself and just lose the weight already. 

I've hated my body for 22 years.  Isn't that long enough?