What It's Like to Be the Poor Bridesmaid in the Wedding Party

Why don't more people talk about how expensive weddings really are for the friends who attend them?

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"David's Bridal suggests that we each order ours ASAP," said the email from the maid of honor. The bridesmaid dress that needed to be ordered ASAP clocked in at a cool $190 and change. 

It was the beginning of December, and the wedding wasn't until May. I didn't know we'd have to buy dresses this early. I thought I would have more time to save. That bitch Sallie Mae had just deducted her usual $1,200 from my bank account for my student loans, so I had $200 left to my name for the next two weeks, plus the $300 I had been saving for Christmas presents.

It was a light Christmas. Not to mention, a long two weeks.

I know what you're going to say. Why would you agree to be in someone's bridal party if you can't afford it?

How, exactly, do you say "no" to a lifelong friend who looks at you with tears in her eyes and asks you to be part of her big day? When she tells you that she could not imagine getting married without you, how do you decline?

I've never been one of those people who say, "I can't afford that." Even when it's true. If there's something that I truly want, I ask myself, "What do I have to do in order to afford this?"

I have a full-time job, but it's no match for my crippling student loan debt. To afford to be a bridesmaid and still pay my bills on time, I've always had to hustle. I took on odd jobs. I freelanced. I found weekend gigs to make up the difference. I cut back on groceries. I stayed in instead of going out. I said no to anything that I could go without.

Having to go through these things in order to stand up there in a matching, overpriced dress on a dear friend's big day isn't what makes being the poor bridesmaid hard. It's my fellow bridesmaids' total apathy toward my financial situation that's the issue. 

It's that last-minute, "Oh, buy this $200 dress today, book this $400 flight with us now," that I can't deal with. If I know that it's coming, I can plan for it. Springing a bridesmaid's dress on me that needs to be ordered five months before the wedding (and during Christmas time, no less) will force me to have to choose between buying presents and having the dress in time.  

Impulsively booking a flight for the bachelorette party means that I'm definitely not going to be on the same one as the bride, because I didn't know she would be booking so early, and I need to wait a few weeks to be able to afford it. By the time that I can, that flight will most likely not be available. Please don't make me feel bad that we're on separate flights.

Trust me, I feel bad enough.

I've learned that no matter how well I plan my budget for a bachelorette party, there will always be instances where I'm forced to spend more than I anticipated: things like hailing a cab with a huge group of girls I barely know, for example. This is when I get seated right next to the payment screen with the girls looking at me like, "Oh, can you get this? I'll get you back later."

I spent the last bachelorette party I went to trying to break even from who owed me what and who I owed. While the other girls sat on their phones flipping through photos of the last night's festivities, I checked my bank account like a mad woman. I sat refreshing my PayPal in hopes that the payment I was waiting on from a freelance client finally came through. I watched them all drink $12 Bud Light after Bud Light at the overpriced pool party we were at, struggling to enjoy my warm club soda while pretending to be one of them.

The few times I've spoken up about the fact that I can't just charge things like the entire fee to hold two hotel rooms in Las Vegas always makes someone ask: Why don't you just get a credit card?

What a brilliant idea, fellow bridesmaid! I don't have a credit card because when you're over $150,000 in student loan debt, credit card companies laugh at your application.

I recovered from that bachelorette party just in time to shop for a gift for the bridal shower. I spent 20 minutes convincing a lady at Bed Bath & Beyond to take that Fitbit Scale off the registry because I had already purchased one off of eBay for much less. It's brand new, I swear, and still in its original packaging. Months later, the bride would laugh and admit that she still hasn't used it.

When my bridesmaid dress did arrive, it was still too long (even with the super-high silver heels I had to buy to match). I visited six different tailors before I found one who would do it for less than $50. I listened to the bridesmaids talk about their own super-cute silver shoe purchases and I sold mine at Buffalo Exchange a few weeks after the wedding to make back a quarter of what I had spent.

We made it to the big day. I prayed that the bride would cover the hair and makeup costs, but I did bring a few hundred dollars with me that I made off eBay just in case. Hair costs were covered, and makeup was optional. I opted to do my own.

The ceremony and reception flew by. I did my best to ignore my bank account balance and have some fun. I enjoyed every last bite of my dinner because I knew full well it would be the last quality meal I would be able to afford to eat for weeks.

At the end of the day, my student loan debt has nothing to do with the bride and groom. My ill-informed, 18-year-old decision is what got me here. But there's something about tucking a $100 dollar bill into a wedding card after spending well over $1,000 to be there that doesn't feel right to me. My measly envelope, surrounded by expensive wedding gifts, pathetically paled in comparison. 

If I wasn't the poor bridesmaid, maybe it would feel different. But I'll never know.

Follow Danielle on Twitter.

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