“Are you sure? I feel like I look a little overstuffed,” I say, sashaying the skirt that is layered with so much tulle that it makes the crinkly sound of tissue paper as I move.
Lena snorts a laugh and buries her face in her glass of champagne as my mother shoots eye daggers at her.
“Not overstuffed at all!” she says.
“It’s so tight my boobs are lopsided,” I respond as I try to even out my squashed boobs to no avail. I stare at my chest in the mirror. “My boobs look like a can of biscuits that just exploded.”
Claire starts coughing and choking on her champagne, making Lena laugh harder.
“Well, I’m sure your boobs will go down a bit when you lose those extra—” my Mom begins just as my sister attempts to play the mediator.
“You look lovely, Julia. But you’re beautiful in anything,” Emily says.
I attempt to sigh but the bodice is so tight I can’t take in a breath to let one go. “I feel like a maiden that just got strapped into a corset to find a suitor in the Victorian era.”
Claire laughs again and Lena raises her eyebrows.
“Well, you can get a different size and get it tailored to fit you perfectly,” Lena says, standing now to adjust the buttons in the back.
“We have the next size up if you’d like me to grab that. I’d hate for you to make your decision based on discomfort,” the sales associate says.
“Or she could just lay off the pizza for a bit,” Mom remarks with her mauve lips pursed as she examines me.
“Mom!” Emily gasps, and I roll my eyes. There’s no point in fighting anyway. I’ll get the dress because my mom wants to gift me one for the wedding. She doesn’t have to stipulate that her gift requires her approval.
“It’s fine. She’s right,” I say. “Everyone likes to lose a few pounds for the wedding so that all my future children can look at old pictures of Mom and Dad on their wedding day and ask when we got fat.”
“Julia Marie!” Mom is dramatically taken aback, with a manicured hand to her chest.
I let out an aggressive sigh, not because of my terrible joke, but because breathing aggressively is the only way to inhale and exhale at all. “I’m joking. I’ll take it.”
“Oh, joy. You will be stunning in this one.” She turns to the associate, who says, “I can get it rung up.”
As they move toward the front of the store, Lena and Claire follow me back into the changing room to help me unbutton this torture device.
“You hate this dress,” Lena says.
“It doesn’t matter what I wear. The wedding isn’t for me and Donavan. It’s for everyone else.”
Claire rolls her eyes. “I love it when you’re romantic.”
I stick my tongue out at her sarcasm.
“Respectfully, you already hate the cake and the color of our bridesmaid dresses,” Lena begins.
“I do not! The bridesmaid dresses look great!” I argue.
Claire’s jaw drops. “You hate the color lavender, number one. And two, this is not 2002. No one has lavender as their wedding color anymore.”
“So judgy.” I shrug. “Maybe I’m old fashioned.”
“Outdated is not the same as being old fashioned,” Lena argues, and I laugh and it makes my ribs hurt due to the satin restraints around my midsection.
“Alright, breathe deep and then exhale as much as you can so I can undo this button,” Claire says. I can see her wincing over my shoulder in the mirror.
“Can you make your face less dramatic? I know the dress is too small.” I comment as she gets the ornery button unclasped.
As she pulls it open to help me slip it off, her eyes go wide. “This isn’t even your size!”
