I was a bridesmaid last weekend and honestly, it sucked. Not the wedding itself, Sarah looked stunning and truly happy, which is all you want for your bestie, right? But being up there, in that *dress*. Ugh. We all had to wear these blush-colored satin things, fitted, you know, like a sheath. And I’m not small. I'm 5’10” and built like a linebacker, always have been. My dad always called me his "Amazonian princess," which was cute when I was ten but now it just means I look like I could snap a twig in half with my pinky finger. And this dress… it just highlighted every single broad shoulder, every inch of my frame. Sarah picked them out ages ago, before I had that whole “let’s try to eat kale and maybe hit the gym sometimes” phase that didn’t last more than three weeks, so I just kept my mouth shut. It’s her day. During the ceremony, it felt like everyone was staring. We were up there for what felt like an ETERNITY, standing perfectly still, trying to look angelic, while I just felt like a giant, blush-colored billboard. My arms felt enormous, my back felt like a brick wall. And I SWEAR I could hear whispers. Probably just my anxiety, right? But I kept imagining people leaning over, like "Wow, that bridesmaid is... a lot," or "Did they run out of dresses in her size?" My brain just goes to those places sometimes, especially when I’m already feeling awkward. I tried to focus on the vows, on the sweet things Sarah and Mark were saying, but all I could hear was the rustle of the satin and the imagined commentary about my wingspan. Afterwards, during the photos, it got worse. The photographer kept saying things like, "Okay, ladies, scooch in closer!" and "Little tighter squeeze!" and I was just like, “Bruh, I AM squeezing.” I felt like I was physically pushing the other bridesmaids, who are all, bless their hearts, petite little things, out of the frame. One of them, Chloe, who’s like 5’2”, actually mumbled, "Oof, a bit squished!" and I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Like, yeah, Chloe, *I’m* the squish. I was trying to make light of it, you know, "Haha, just making sure you don't float away!" but it just felt pathetic. It’s hard, sometimes, to just exist in your own skin when you feel like it’s too much for the space you’re in. Later, at the reception, I just kind of retreated. Drank too much champagne, danced a bit, but mostly just tried to blend into the background, which is hard to do when you’re literally towering over most of the room. I saw my cousin, Leo, give me this look, that pitying-but-trying-to-be-supportive look, and I knew what he was thinking. We’re both on the taller side, but he’s all lanky, whereas I’m just… solid. I ended up talking to the caterer for like twenty minutes about sustainable sourcing for the salad bar, just to avoid having to make small talk with people who might have been at the ceremony, might have been whispering. It’s stupid, I know. It's just a dress, it's just one day, but it just hits different sometimes, you know? Like, when did I become so… conscious of taking up space? I used to not care. Maybe it's the 30s hitting harder than I thought, all these unexpected internal audits. And then you see other people just living their best lives, floating along, and you’re just there, a sequoia in a rose garden. Now I’m back in my apartment, staring at my reflection in the dark screen of my phone, still feeling the echo of that blush satin. It’s like a hangover, but for my self-esteem. Just a dull ache. I should probably go to bed, it's already 2 AM, but my brain's just looping, replaying every perceived slight, every whisper. It’s like, *really*, is this what I’m doing now? Freaking out over a goddamn bridesmaid dress? What a life. Anyway. Just needed to get it out there. Feels… flat. Like an old soda. But it's out.