The Office Curve

She Wears It Better (Edited)

It working for a wedding website is the ninth circle of hell, then going bridesmaid dress shopping with your long suffering mother and your bitchy sister is the fabled tenth level. 

If it existed, that is.  I have no intention of finding out.

The shop my mom took us to was nice enough - swanky even, like those places you see on TV shows like "Say Yes to the Dress" and whatnot.  The signs touted the shops forty years of service to the community, and they had shop girls asking if we wanted tea or coffee and whatnot.  The furniture looked like it was stolen straight from Versailles - elegant, baroque, but not the most comfortable.  Every consultant looked like they studied with the high bridal fashion designers of Paris and Milan before coming to work here, perfectly coifed, polished, and prim. 

Even though I work in this industry, I still feltl like an outsider.

Our consultant made it a point to inform us that they had they carried bridesmaids dress for all different sizes so there was no need to worry about them, unlike the bridal dress.  I was already not looking forward to any of this when we stepped into this place.  Now, I was feeling like the big whale on the beach that everyone worked to accomodate so that it wouldn't die or feel too out of place.

I am not a whale, damn it, and I'm pretty sure I won't need a crane or some sort of contraption to fit into a damn dress.  A size 16 does not equate into a whale.

My sister didn't hesitate to enjoy my discomfort.  Karyn made it a point to mention how her perfect figure would allow her to look good in any dress she tried on, and that it would be much easier for her to find a dress than it would be for me.  I'm sure she relished me rolling my eyes - anything to put me in my place, wherever the hell that was.  We might have been looking for dresses for my mother's wedding, but clearly this day was about reminding me that she was the better sister, and I would always be the inferior one.

Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.

Honestly, I couldn't tell you why she had it in for me.  We're as different as night and day.  She was the first child, the oldest, bestowed with the charisma and magnetism befitting of first-borns.  She was the popular girl.  If you didn't want to be with her, you wanted to be her.  She didn't need to be a cheerleader or anything like that.  All Karyn had to do was show up and instantly the crowd was at her mercy.  Not that she ever rested on her laurels.  She worked hard to keep herself in the forefront.  Good Grades - she had them.  Student council  - she was not just a member, she was the president.  Prom Committee - she ran that, too!

Karyn is probably the most hard working woman I know of besides my mother.  She deserved everything she got in life.  When she was accepted into a prestigious university, which lead to her cushy job in the finance industry and a fiance who has his own share of successes, no one was more proud of her than I was, even as I wondered why the hell she always seemed to have it in for me.

Maybe it was due to her influence having no affect on me.

I was never as high-strung as my sister.  Maybe there was something about her working herself to the core and always having to be out somewhere with someone that really turned me off to that lifestyle.  Or maybe my weight had something to do with it.  I was never ever a skinny child and therefore I was never ever destined for popularity.  It bothered me then - why should size be a hindrance to one's social life - but not so much now.  Being different was actually freeing.  Sure, I had to deal with assholes and dipshits, but I also got to do what I wanted.  I was a good student as well, but I didn't kill myself to be that way.  No one expected me to be at this party or help at this other school event, so I had time to focus on myself and what I wanted out of life.  I didn't have to be everyone's friend - then again, no one rushed to be my friend, either.  But I had a few friends, and they were good ones, ones I could count on, and ones I still talk to today.