The Fat Bridesmaid, Part 5: "I could lose weight if I wanted to" The next installment of The Fat Bridesmaid Saga! If you're not caught up on the story this far, you can find the rest of it here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Friday night I didn't sleep well. My morning sickness (which is really more like "all-day sickness") had returned, and was keeping me up. Couple that with the fact that I generally have a tough time sleeping when I'm not in my own bed, this meant I had a hard time falling asleep. I finally dozed off sometime after midnight. At about 12:30, I heard somebody out in the hall, in a high-pitched baby voice say: "no kitty, be quiet! Go back downstairs! You can't go in there! OK I'll pet you." This ridiculousness went on for a few minutes, and then I heard my parents' bedroom door open, and then close again. I wasn't able to fall asleep for another hour, and was woken up again around 6:30 to begin getting ready for the wedding. I'm not a morning person. I'm especially not a morning person when I barely slept and feel like I have to puke. I went downstairs, where my mom was sitting with the bridesmaids, the make-up artist, and the hair stylist. "How did you sleep?" she asked me. "Like absolute shit," I said. "Some idiot decided 12:30 this morning would be a great time to have a conversation with the cat." "Oh, that was me," says Hamderella. "The cat was outside your parents door crying, I didn't want her to wake anyone up." I glared at her and snapped, "well, I didn't hear the cat, I only heard you." My mom, the natural mediator, tried to diffuse the situation. "It's OK, she just wanted to come sleep with your father and me. I let her into our room and {The Fat Bridesmaid} went back to bed." I was displeased, but decided to let it go. It was going to be a long day, and I needed to save my energy for the important stuff. The make-up artist had set up her chair in front of the big bay window in the main room. The chair itself sort of looked like this but was made of wood. It's The Fat Bridesmaid's turn to get her make-up done, and she glances nervously at the chair. "What's the weight limit on that thing?" she asks the make-up artist. "Oh, it's about 300 lbs," she replies. The Fat Bridesmaid doesn't say anything, she just stands there glaring at it, as if she were sizing it up and determining whether or not to tempt fate. "Don't worry about it," says the make-up artist. "It'll be fine." The Fat Bridesmaid gets into the chair, and her ass is spilling out on all sides. Thank God I hadn't eaten yet at that point, or else I would have certainly puked it back up. Somehow, the chair survived her gargantuan weight, and she plopped down on the couch beside me when the MUA was finished. The Fat Bridesmaid begins complaining about how hungry she is. My dad is going to make us all breakfast, but he is currently out getting a few last-minute things for the day. My mom explained that he would be back soon to start making us breakfast, but Hamderella just whines that she's hungry nnnnooooooowwwwwwwww!!! Keep in mind that she's a guest in my parents' home, and has been acting like an entitled brat the whole time. "Well, there's some fruit in the fridge if you want," my mom suggests. Hamderella declines, and sits there pouting like a child. Not getting the attention she wanted, she then starts to complain about how her knees hurt, and today is going to be such a long day, she's not sure how she's going to get through it. My younger sister (also a bridesmaid) chimes in and says that she's been having knee issues as well. My sister had to have major reconstructive knee surgery on both knees about 10 years ago to fix a congenital defect, and the surgical pins that were placed at the time have been giving her trouble the past few months. They've actually been rubbing up against the inside of her skin, and it's been very painful for her. They need to be removed, but she isn't able to see a specialist about it until December. Again, not to be outdone, The Fat Bridesmaid minimalizes my sister's condition, stating, "oh, well you're skinny. Your knees aren't as bad as mine. I've got an extra 50 lbs walking around on them." Yeah right, Hammy, try an extra 100. Maybe even 150, I can't be sure. Hamderella proceeds to go on about how it's going to be so hard to walk around all day, and that she's in so much pain, she can't even exercise anymore (doubt she even did to begin with). Not to pass up a prime shitlording opportunity, I pipe up: "even if you can't exercise, it's diet that's important. If your weight is affecting your knees, start watching your calories and eat less. Diet is 80% of the solution when it comes to losing weight." Hamderella scowls at me. She at least suspects I'm a shitlady, though maybe she doesn't know exactly how deep my hatred runs, especially for her. "Oh, I know it's diet," she says to me. "I just like food too much and I'm lazy. I could lose weight if I wanted to. When I did want to, I lost 32 pounds in 3 months!" Way to deflect, fatty. Classic ham tactic. Make it seem like you're that big because you want to be. I guess this would be why you didn't lose any weight and had to order a larger dress size, despite insisting you would be "motivated to lose weight" for my sister's wedding. I don't know if fatty was seeking my approval or just deflecting with her comment, but I didn't give her the satisfaction. I glared down my nose at her, went "Hmph" and changed the subject. TL;DR: Fat Bridesmaid wakes me up in the middle of the night, has reservations about the make-up artist's chair which holds 300 lbs, and whines that breakfast isn't ready fast enough for her. She also insults my sister who had a serious knee surgery and needs another, then insists that she could lose weight if she wanted to. Edit: Read The Fat Bridesmaid, Part 6: The Ceremony & Photos here!