This Actually Happened While Trying On My Wedding Dress

Read time: 4 Minutes

**Potential trigger warning: Body image

“Let’s be real and vulnerable together. Let’s stumble around in the dark together.” – Me, The homepage of this website

I really don’t want to tell you this story. I’m afraid of being judged or possibly “called out” for the thoughts that went through my head yesterday. But this story is too important not to tell. I realize I’m a life coach and some people may assume that life coaches have it all figured out.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in reading stories from people who “have it all figured out.” On the simplest level, I find it boring. On a deeper level, I find it dishonest. As a coach and as a writer, I promise to never lie to you. Even if it makes me look like I don’t have it all figured out. I don’t. And, although I’ll inevitably keep trying to move in that direction, I know I’ll never actually arrive. I hope I can always sit comfortably and find humor in the messy middle.

Yesterday I went for my first wedding dress fitting. I wasn’t looking forward to it because I knew my dress wasn’t going to fit. When I picked it out four months ago I weighed noticeably less than I do now. For the record, I feel much better now. Back then, I’d been struggling with a sudden, crippling anxiety that really knocked me on my ass and almost completely eliminated my appetite. Today, with the help of a village, I am THRILLED to say I’m feeling much, much better. 

Luckily enough, I’ve never obsessed over my weight. I’ve obsessed over plenty of other things but not so much my weight. I’ve always strived to be healthy. That said, I was “catastrophizing” yesterday. I was worried that the seamstress might shame me for gaining so much weight and making her job harder. And then I would have to explain that, as a matter of fact, I’m much healthier now thank you very much! (This is the part where I noticed I was fabricating a conflict in my mind, smiled at my silly self, and tried to let it go.)

She was just able to zip me into my dress. I couldn’t exhale but, hey, I was in! It was beautiful but very, very uncomfortable. How would I be able to walk in this thing? How would I be able to eat or dance or breathe in this thing? The seamstress was warm and reassuring. She promised they would make it just perfect for my wedding day. 

I waddled out of the fitting room and managed to climb up onto one of the little platforms where she bent down and began pinning the hem. I stared at my face in the mirror. For some reason I felt sad. I also felt alone. I noticed that the beading on my shoes didn’t match the beading on my dress. I was doing this all wrong. I wanted to cry.

I pulled my gaze away from the mirror and looked down. That’s when I noticed an iPad sitting face up on the big fancy sofa next to me. On it, I saw a picture of myself. It was a close-up of the back of my dress – from my shoulders to my hips. She must have taken it when I wasn’t looking. 

I studied that picture. Every inch. And I was repulsed. 

 I looked just as “stuffed into” that dress as I felt. More, actually. It very clearly did not fit. In that moment, I doubted it ever would. I imagined the number of barre and hot vinyasa yoga classes I would have to attend between now and June to not look ridiculous. I was exhausted just thinking about it. More than anything I was disappointed in the experience I was having. I was standing there in my beautiful wedding dress – sad and body shaming myself. 

 And that’s when I noticed something in the picture...a strand of pearls sitting just above the opening of the back of the dress. My dress doesn’t have pearls.

 This wasn’t my dress. 

 And this wasn’t a picture of me. 

 And that’s when...something strange happened. The picture morphed right before my eyes. The woman who, just moments ago, appeared repulsive to me was suddenly elegant. Beautiful. Feminine. 

 And the only thing that changed was that I realized it wasn’t me. 

 I’m going to stop here. This actually happened yesterday. I’m not exaggerating for the sake of a better story. The picture literally transformed in front of me. It’s both sad and eye-opening. 

 Here’s what I ask of you: Remember this. Remember it when your friend tells you you’re beautiful and you don’t believe her. Remember it when you look in the mirror and you don’t like what you see. Remember it when you pick yourself apart. Remember it when you wish you were different. Thinner. Taller. Younger. With better skin. Whatever. 

 We don’t see ourselves as we are.

Can you laugh at yourself?

Or maybe what you need is to get angry. Angry that at some point in your life something or someone caused you to look at yourself and see anything other than beauty.

 We are so much more than this particular brand of bullshit.