I think that my anger over this situation is righteous and plentiful enough for the Pit … but those people scare me, and I don’t have quite the rapier wit necessary for a good pitting, so MPSIMS it is.
I have always been under the impression that when a friend or family member asks you to be a bridesmaid in their wedding, it is understood that they are in charge, and you should just be thankful you were asked. My friend S has been the most accomodating bride I have ever seen–we had input on what our dresses would look like, she doesn’t care how we wear our hair, we don’t all have to wear the same jewelry or shoes … we just have to show up, really.
One would think that this would make the entire bridal party happy, right? Wrong.
From day one in the Great Bridesmaid Dress Search of ‘05, one bridesmaid, C, has been fighting S and the rest of us every step of the way. I’ve been in two weddings before this one–in both cases, I was told what I was wearing. My sister-in-law, in fact, gave as her bridesmaids’ gifts a basket containing the nail polish, earrings, and pantyhose she wanted us all to wear. (Fantastic gift, huh? :rolleyes: )
S has scheduled the wedding for October, and she wanted a very fall theme for it. Her plan was to have us in an autumn color–brown, or orange, or just something that evokes that changing-foliage image. C wanted red. Bright red. Strapless. We went shopping, and C wouldn’t even try on a brown dress.
For the record, C has brown hair and brown eyes and a nice tan and would look fabulous in a brown dress … but Og forbid it have straps. I, on the other hand, have red hair and pale skin and a fat ass, and would look ridiculous in a bright red strapless dress–but I was willing to wear one, if that was what the bride wanted. C almost talked her into it, too. It’s a good thing I have internet access and little to do at work. I found a better dress, and I found it in brown, so take that, Nazi Bridesmaid!
Now we’re having shoe issues. sigh The Maid of Honor is 5’10. I am 5’ even, the groom’s sister is 5’4", and C is 5’6". The bride is four feet, ten inches tall, and a little sensitive about her height. C wants to wear five-inch platform shoes, and is responding to requests that she limit her heel to two inches with responses like “You want me to look like crap?” and “But Cathy’s five-ten, what does it matter?” Today’s prize was “But flats make my feet look big.” It’s a floor-length fucking dress. Who gives a damn?
The bride, as you may have noticed, has something of a problem with confrontation, and is mortally afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings. I have offered repeatedly to take C out back and kick the shit out of her. I have also made sure that S knows that if and when I ever get married, I will have no arguments–you do what I tell you to, or you don’t get to be in the wedding. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.
I have spent the majority of my day assuring S that she is not being overly controlling by doing something as trivial as trying to make her wedding the best day it can be. I have offered to politely remind C (who I’m relatively sure doesn’t like me anyway, and hasn’t since Junior High–it’s 'cause I’m smarter than her, I believe ) that this is not her wedding, the day is not about her, and that all she is doing is making S more stressed out, which is the last thing she needs with less than three months to go.
I have also offered to pay for C’s dress out of my own pocket and have it altered to fit S’s cousin, just because I’m so sick of her shit.
Make me feel better–tell me your BridesmaidZilla stories. Keep me from killing her outright just to save my friends some aggravation.