My husband’s sister’s dress code is difficult for me to follow for her wedding in two weeks. I overheat easily at 34 weeks pregnant. I sent her several clothes to compromise, but she rejected them all.
Although I informed her yesterday that I cannot attend her wedding, she…
Blown up totally. No quiet manner either. Within an hour, she posted a passive-aggressive article on Facebook about “how some people are so self-centered they can’t respect one day that’s not about them.”
It wasn’t necessary for her to say my name.
My inbox sparkled like Christmas. My mother-in-law asked what I “did” to Anya. Then Anya’s bridesmaid sent me a screenshot asking whether I was okay.
My name was dragged in a group discussion. Because I didn’t want to faint during her Pinterest fantasy. Let me rewind.
Anya is my husband’s five-year-old younger sister. She’s always been event-focused. Birthdays?
Themes with colors. Dinner parties? Pinterest boards.
Baby showers? No need to begin. We expected her to go all out when she got engaged last year.
Everyone was fine with that. We laughed and nodded at her seven-part bridal itinerary, three engagement shoots, and guest aesthetic requirements. But dress code.
Things fell apart for me there. She announced “Romantic Vineyard Garden” theme. Okay, cute.
She then sent a 9-page PDF with guest attire instructions. No reds, oranges, blacks, whites, navy blues, or “too cool-toned.” Avoid sparkles, patterns, lace, and “excess cleavage, visible shoulders, or knee-length hems.”
Big surprise: the ceremony and reception are outside. In mid-August.
In Arizona. Just over a month before my due date. Walking from the living room to the kitchen makes me sweat.
The thought of wearing a long, pastel chiffon dress with sleeves in 95°F heat made me cry. I approached her midway. She got four dress photos from me.
A subdued palette. Floor-length. The sole “violation” was short flutter sleeves or a little V-neck.
Tasteful still. Still wedding-ready. She rejected them all.
Her exact words: “Maternity shoot, not wedding guest. Can you strive harder to blend? I pondered that message for a minute.
Reread again. “Try harder to blend.” She treated me as a cosmetic issue to reduce. It took me days to think.
Consulted my OB. Spoke to my hubby. We agreed that I would not come if this was her wish.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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