(NOT SO) WEDDING READY

TW: Anti-Fat Bias, Weight Loss/Gain, Self-harm

In a few week I am going to try on wedding dresses for the first time. My sister is flying out from New York to Los Angeles to come with me, along with my parents and one of my bridesmaids. While other people have spent years fantasizing about their wedding day, I have spent my time daydreaming about dress shopping. I used to live right near a big bridal boutique and every time I walked past I would peer in to see if anyone was having an appointment so I could see the dress and everyone’s excitement. While there are plenty of valid reasons to debate wedding rituals, something about this part has always pulled on my heartstrings. No matter how silly it might be, I want to try on a bunch of fancy dresses in front of my loved ones as we all freak out (in a good way). And at 33 and engaged for the second time, I feel like I have waited long enough for what has always felt to me to be a major life moment.

But as the much-anticipated event approaches, I feel a sense of fear start to take hold. Will this public display of dresses turn into a public display of my body? And will that display slowly, or quickly, unravel the mental work I have been doing to be at peace with my current weight and size? You see, I’m one of the many people whose body has significantly changed as I’ve gotten older. There are pictures of me from my mid-twenties that I can’t believe caused no one to be alarmed at how skinny I was. I remember thinking at the time that I was just “average” or even “untoned.” Now, I look back with shock at a frame that I never realized I had in the first place. It’s only through gaining a fluctuating 20-30+ pounds that I fully understand the level of skinny privilege I was operating from. Like the first time I tried on a high boot and couldn’t get it to zip around my calf. I naively hadn’t realized that even shoes are made only for certain body types and now that mine had changed, I could no longer wear what had been a staple in my wardrobe.

Since I started gaining weight in the last five or so years, I have wavered between not caring and caring too much. For a long time, I was under the impression that my body had expanded as a result of going back on medication for my anxiety, OCD and tinges of depression. The benefit of a medicated mind seemed worth the physical change, even as people called me different versions of disgusting online. (What a blessing and curse to have hours and hours of your aging self available on YouTube.) But after a disastrous decision to try going off my medication in 2021 that only resulted in a return of self-harm and no weight loss, I’m no longer convinced I can blame my bigger shape on anything other than my changing metabolism and aversion to dieting.

This has all led me to a fork in the road as my August wedding approaches. Do I want to put in the mental anguish to actively try to lose weight so I can get--as many bridal websites and social accounts call it--“wedding ready?” Do I want to unleash that critical voice that I have fought so hard to diminish these last few years so I can “get my act together,” change my eating habits and feel confident when I look in the mirror at future dress fittings? Or would I rather continue my life as is and risk feelings of socially conditioned anti-fat bias when I look at my future wedding photos? Because I don’t think I have enough time to completely unpack all the negative conditioning I grew up with about female bodies and what it means to be a beautiful bride in less than 12 months.

I hate that this internal debate is even a part of my wedding process. I hate that I will have to go into these fittings with a strategic plan to inform everyone that I have no intentions of wearing suffocating shapewear on what is supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life. Whatever I choose has to look right on my actual body and not some smooshed and controlled form of it. And I hate that I am not far enough along in my body acceptance journey for this not to be an issue. But that is the reality of the situation. So I need to figure out a way to navigate it all without losing my long-standing excitement or let what should be a joyous activity turn into an opportunity to shit on myself.

As someone with OCD, it has been a lifelong struggle to not live in the black and white, but I think my best approach here exists somewhere in the gray. It feels unrealistic for me to not succumb to some of the pressure to “look my best” on a day that will be captured in more photographs than any other moment. But I think I can be more in control of what my “best” entails. If I try to recapture the frame of my youth, I am setting myself up for failure and disordered eating. I can, however, be a bit more mindful of what I eat and my workout routine, so long as it doesn’t lead into an unhealthy obsession. I can go into this time knowing it is more important for me to track my mental state than my calories.

What works for me might change over the course of the next few months so I need to be okay with remaining flexible and prioritizing my relationship to myself instead of my relationship to my dress. That said, I can make sure to pick a dress I really love so I always feel good when I step into it--instead of choosing something that will look “even better” if I just lose a few pounds. I can also focus my energy on other parts of my bridal look that aren’t as triggering, including my hair, makeup and nails. Because I’d much rather spend time thinking about different French manicures than whether my arm fat is going to attract too much unwanted attention.

I’ll admit that there have been moments when I’ve mourned not getting married in my younger body. I know if I had been engaged at 25 every single dress style would have looked incredible, and shapewear wouldn’t have even been a point of discussion. But I also know that my marriage would have failed because I wasn’t mentally or emotionally capable of being a good partner let alone a good spouse. When I look back on this day and all the photos, the massive steps it took to get here will be apparent in my older face and womanly body. My inevitable eye wrinkles might be a sign of aging. But they are also a sign of the fight it took to get to wear a fancy white dress for the first time.

xoxo,

Allison