“Besides how much weight she gained since giving me her measurements three months ago?” Charlotte sashayed up to my mom, crossing her arms and inspecting me like she wasn’t sure if she felt more like laughing or gloating—clearly a tough decision for her.
“I didn’t gain any weight, but thanks for your concern. And sympathy.” I circled my hand at her face. Her eyes were practically dancing inside her skull.
“And the dress didn’t just cinch up a couple of sizes overnight,” she replied.
Avalee joined my mom, Charlotte, and cousins in the inspection line-up. She was the only one of the bunch who looked like she felt sorry for me.
“Yeah, and something tells me by the way the sleeves feel like they’re about to cut off the circulation in my arms that this isn’t the way this lovely gown is supposed to fit.” That was just the most noticeable place on my body tingling from decreased blood supply at the moment. Back in the changing room, I’d had to suck in my waist so much to get the zipper up the side, I almost passed out. I’d gotten used to the vacuum-packed feeling there now though, and I’d adjusted to breathing shallowly.
“I ordered it based on the measurements you gave me.”
When I tried crossing my arms in Charlotte’s direction, I could only get them to the halfway mark before I stopped trusting the integrity of the seams holding this thing together. “In case you’re blind, Charlotte, this dress is not based on my measurements.” I smacked my hips in proof, where the seams were pulling the most. “Nor is it based on just about any other average American woman’s measurements.”
My mom lifted her pointer finger and continued looking just over my shoulder. It was the only way she could “look” at me without getting to the cusp of bursting into tears. “We’re not average, dear. We’re Abbotts.”
Charlotte arched a narrow brow at me like that summed it up. Game over.
“I can’t wear this. Sorry.” I had to shuffle to the three-way mirror because taking normal-sized strides was impossible.
“The wedding is four days away. I can’t exactly just order you a new one from London and hope it makes it here in time,” Charlotte said.
I continued shuffling. “Then what do you suggest, dear sister?”
“Stop eating,” she popped off. “And shapewear.”
My cousins cackled beside her.
“God, Charlotte,” Avalee said, “you can’t seriously expect her to wear that. It’s hideous.” Avalee threw me an apologetic smile. “No offense, Clara Belle, it just, you know . . .”
“Should be burned after we draw a ring of salt around it?” I suggested, pinching at the fabric.
“Better make it two rings. Just to be safe,” Avalee said as I shuffled the last few inches to the mirrors.
I didn’t know why I was expecting anything to look different or to have loosened up—silk chemise didn’t stretch—but somehow, out here under all of the shop’s overhead lights, I looked even worse. This dress was birthed in the inner circle of hell.
I resisted the urge to rip it apart, piece by piece, and instead turned around so everyone could get another good look . . . because it wasn’t like they’d already been gaping at me without blinking since I’d popped out of the dressing room.
“Unless you gave the shop my measurements as being 32-22-32, this was ordered in the wrong size, Charlotte. It would be nice if you could check to see if they can get the correct size here in time for the wedding.”
My mom was bobbing her head, already reaching for her American Express.
“And don’t take this as me questioning your sanity or anything, but can I ask why you picked such a long dress with long sleeves in heavy fabric for your afternoon summer wedding in Charleston?” The air conditioning was blasting in here and I could already feel sweat dripping down my back—and a few other places I didn’t want to be dripping sweat from all day and night long.
“My dress isn’t like that. It’s much lighter and breezier,” Cynthia said, like she’d just defended Charlotte instead of incriminating her.
“Yeah, neither is mine. It’s strapless and mid-calf length,” my other cousin, Harper, added.
When I turned to Avalee, the only one who would be on my side, and all she could do was bite her lip and look away, I knew what had happened.
Charlotte had happened.
“What do they mean their dresses are different than this beauty I have on now?” I heard the venom in my voice as I started in Charlotte’s direction. If it weren’t for the dress, I would have been tempted to wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze until the amusement drained out of her eyeballs.
She lifted a shoulder like none of this was a big deal. Like me about to sweat myself into dehydration and have my limbs amputated thanks to lack of circulation was no big. “I decided I wanted all of my bridesmaids to wear different dresses.”