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The fattest bridesmaid

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I packed my weekend bag with mounting anxiety and many deep breaths. I’m going to be the fattest bridesmaid, I thought with wild-eyed horror.

The elegant wedges in my hand – I was frozen by the thought before plunging them into the bag – seemed to verify this; ‘extra wide’ was neatly stamped along the sole next to a golden Nine West logo.

What was I thinking! And I was so pleased when she asked me to be a bridesmaid!

That phone call seemed a lifetime away and the reality of walking down an aisle – had to forcibly remind myself I wasn’t the main attraction – loomed scarily near.

The wedding was in beautiful Grabouw; a long trip from Johannesburg, but worth it for my best friend.

We met in Stellenbosch a few years – and kilograms – ago and I suddenly wondered if she was sure, really sure, she knew what I looked like now. (She did. I’d seen her the previous weekend. And many times before that.)

I cringed to think of it but after a long-distance relationship, a bad job, and poor medication I’d gained ten shocking kilograms since we studied together. I felt each one as I reached for more clothes to stuff in the bag.

I should go for a run, I thought desperately.

Yes. That would help. ‘I’m going for a run!’ I yelled across the house. My boyfriend ambled in the room, perplexed. ‘What, now?’ he said, pointing out the window to a navy sky, ‘It’s 10pm.’ Somewhat deflated I had to concede that I would not, despite a last minute fast and a foiled attempt at exercise, look any different by tomorrow.

After restless dreams that involved zippers that refused to close (I’d been hopping in and out of that dress more times than Zille leapt into a twitter war, paranoid I’d been inflating like a balloon and it wouldn’t fit anymore) we got ready for the airport and I held my breath at the weekend ahead.

The dress had to fit. It was the only one in my size in the country… and, I reminded myself sternly, it fit me half an hour before.

Trying on dresses half a country away from the bride was not my favourite part of the wedding.

Not because of the bride – despite the dire warnings I received about all brides turning into Bridezillas once they caught a whiff of the white dress – but rather because choosing a bridesmaid dress via Whatsapp will always be stressful. Is this a good angle? Or, Does this angle make the dress look better than it actually is?

My friend was genuinely relaxed; even after I accidentally bought the exact same shoes for the ceremony. But even the most relaxed bride has a vision for her Big Day and all the initial dresses she liked I knew would turn me into a giant, floral potato.

After furious browsing (and lots of ‘When I lose a few kgs I’ll look fab in that!’), we found a dress, suggested by the bride, that made both the maid of honour and I look radiant despite our vastly different figures.

And a day later, when I walked confidently up the aisle, I realised it didn’t matter that I was the fattest bridesmaid. The only one that cared about my weight, was me.

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