LAURIE: “Have you started Weight Watchers yet?” That’s what my sister asked me when I told her I was having trepidation about wedding dress shopping. Even though I am a size 12, the average size for a woman in the United States, just trying to buy a simple pair of pants in Manhattan is a nightmare for me. Why would high-stakes bridal dress shopping be any different?
But of course, as everyone started to tell me, it is different. Wedding boutiques apparently have dresses from size 00 to size 48. Which is great, only…F*ck wedding boutiques. F*ck the nervy saleswomen with tape measures and opinions about your assets. F*ck the million other idiot brides checking each other out. F*ck the markups, the elaborate underthings, the fittings, the sly references to Pilates, the whole princess-perfect process.
But I do need something to wear, and the odds are not good that I’ll find something perfect online or off the rack, especially with my bad attitude and huge butt, so I know that I need to get over this. No fewer than five friends have offered to go shopping with me, including a size 2 who tried to sell herself by promising, “I’ll be honest with you if something doesn’t look good.” I wonder if she’s ever met me in her whole life.