I’m sitting here in the dark and my stomach is making these like... really loud growling noises and I can’t sleep because I’m just so stressed about tomorrow. Today was the rehearsal dinner and it was at this really nice steakhouse downtown (the kind with the white tablecloths and those tiny forks for everything) and I just... I didn't eat. Not a single bite. My mom kept looking at me like I was losing my mind and maybe I am? But I just can't take the risk of looking like a balloon in those photos. The dress is this silk thing that costs more than my first car and it fits... okay, it fits perfectly right now but it’s one of those gowns where if you even breathe wrong or drink a glass of water you can see it. It's like a performance review but for my body, you know? Like if I fail this, everyone sees it. I’ve worked so hard to get this promotion at work and keep everything together with my daughter’s graduation and my dad’s health issues and this wedding is supposed to be the ONE thing that's perfect. If I bloat, I fail. That’s just how it feels. So there I was, sitting in front of this amazing plate of sea bass and asparagus (which I usually love) and I just pushed it around with my fork for an hour. My future mother-in-law asked if I was feeling sick and I just lied and said I had a "nervous stomach" which isn't a total lie but it’s definitely not the real reason. The real reason is I’m TERRIFIED that if I eat even a bite of salt I’ll wake up tomorrow with that puffiness under my eyes or my waist will be just an eighth of an inch bigger and the zipper will get stuck. You have no idea how much pressure this is. Everyone says "oh it's your big day" but what they really mean is "we’re all paying a lot of money to look at you so you better look like a magazine." I’m almost 50 years old, I shouldn't care this much, right? Like I’m an established adult with a 401k and a team of twelve people reporting to me but here I am acting like a teenager because I'm scared of a piece of bread. (It was sourdough too, my absolute favorite, and the smell was just... torture). My fiancé, Jeff, he tried to be sweet and offered me some of his dessert but I almost snapped at him. I felt so bad about it later. I just... I can't explain to him that my brain is stuck on this loop of "don't bloat, don't bloat, don't bloat." It’s like when the regional director comes in for a surprise audit and you have to make sure every single file is in the right place or else the whole department looks bad. That's how I feel about my ribs right now. If I can just stay thin for twelve more hours, I've won. And then my daughter—she’s 22 and so confident, god I wish I had that—she leaned over and whispered "Mom, you need to eat something or you're gonna faint at the altar." And I just looked at her and felt so old. Because she doesn't get it yet. She doesn't know what it’s like when things start to sag and your metabolism just... quits on you. I want to look like I’m still in the game, you know? Like I haven't just given up because I’m middle-aged and dealing with office politics and aging parents. I went to the bathroom three times during dinner just to check my reflection and try to suck my stomach in more in the mirror. I stood there in the stall and just did these deep breaths but my heart was still racing. What if the seam pops? What if the photos come back and I look... lumpy? It sounds so stupid when I type it out but at 2am it feels like the end of the world. (I really hope nobody from the office finds this, they’d think I’ve totally lost my grip on things). My dad was there in his wheelchair and he looked so proud, but even that felt like a huge weight. Like I have to be this perfect vision for him because who knows how many more big days we have left? It’s a lot to carry. I feel like I’m holding my breath until tomorrow night when I can finally take the dress off and maybe eat a sandwich in the hotel room. But right now? My mouth is so dry and I’m just... I’m just hungry and so incredibly scared of a piece of fabric. I probably shouldn't even be posting this. I should be sleeping so I don't have bags under my eyes but my brain won't shut up. Is it normal to be this obsessed? Like, I've spent my whole life climbing the ladder and being the "responsible one" and now I’m reduced to being afraid of a side salad. It’s pathetic, right? Please don't judge me too hard, I’m just... I'm really struggling and I feel like I can't tell anyone because they'd tell me to just "relax" and that's the last thing I can do. Anyway... if I faint tomorrow, I guess everyone will have something to talk about at the reception. I just want to get through it. I want to look at the photos in ten years and not hate what I see. I just keep thinking about that dress hanging in the closet... it's like it’s judging me. Waiting for me to mess up. God, I just want a piece of toast. But I won't. I'm going to drink some more lukewarm water and try to close my eyes for a few hours. I hope this all makes sense... I'm just so tired of trying to be perfect.