I was excited and proud at the same time when my best friend Evelyn asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. Since high school, we had been inseparable, and even though life
I was excited and proud at the same time when my best friend Evelyn asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. Even though life had taken us in various paths after college, I still thought of her more as a sister than a friend because we had been together since high school.
I was truly overjoyed when she informed me of her engagement.
Although I wouldn’t have chosen Colin, her fiancé, out of the crowd as her ideal match, I respected her decision and wished her the best. We had been dating for years.
She asked me to be one of her bridesmaids, along with three other women: Harper, Julia, and Samantha. We weren’t particularly tight, but we had all known one another to varied degrees, primarily through Evelyn.
Nevertheless, I eagerly anticipated the camaraderie that would result from attending such a significant occasion.
However, there was something strange about the entire procedure from the beginning. Planning this wedding appeared to bring out a completely different side of Evelyn, who had always been a little picky. A few fussy requests quickly turned into countless group chats with demands over our accessories, shoes, hair, and nails.
She even sent us a “Bridesmaids’ Etiquette Guide,” which was less of a cordial request and more akin to a military instruction manual.
One of her texts started, “Ladies, this is my once-in-a-lifetime day.” I know you all care about me enough to meet my high standards. I recall feeling sick to my stomach as I stared at the text.
Although I wanted to encourage her, the tone seemed more like a CEO speaking to underpaid interns than a bride speaking to her closest friends. But the biggest surprise was two weeks prior to the wedding.
Under the pretense of a “final bridesmaids’ meeting,” Evelyn brought us all to her apartment.
She was obviously happy with herself as she welcomed us with champagne and a big smile. Following a brief conversation, she revealed four clothing bags that were neatly arranged against the wall. She made the dramatic announcement, “Your dresses,” as if she were giving us a treasure.
Made to order, precisely as I had imagined.
They are flawless. My heart fell the moment we unzipped the packages.
Although the outfits appeared to have been purchased from a theater costume store, they were actually custom made. Sequins strewn across the bodice, puffy sleeves, and shiny satin in a curiously pale peach hue.
They were so ostentatious that they looked more like a high school prom than a sophisticated wedding.
Evelyn put her hands together before we could all say anything. “Don’t worry, I covered everything up front, even though I know you’re all itching to try them on. Well, not quite.
Before throwing the bomb, she hesitated, allowing the tension to build.
Thus, the sum for every outfit was $480. You only need to pay me back the remaining amount because I paid the deposit.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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