My Mom Tried to Upstage Me in a Wedding Dress, But She Didn’t See This Coming (2 of 5)

Nora nodded, breathless. “Full bridal gown. Gloves. Cathedral-length veil. She even hashtagged it #StillGotIt.”

I should’ve been shocked. But I wasn’t.

Because I already knew.

My mother, Diane, had a long-standing tradition of hijacking milestones. Baby showers, birthdays, my college graduation. If there was a spotlight, she was in it. And now, on the one day meant for me, she was doubling down.

But what she didn’t know?

I’d been ready for weeks.

See, the dress drama started early. Back when I tried on gowns with her, and she kept suggesting ones she would’ve worn. Then came the cryptic comments—“White really washes you out, sweetheart,” or “You know, I’ve still got my wedding dress… it’s timeless.”

That’s when the plan began forming.

Nora and I rallied the troops—cousins, friends, aunts, even co-workers. A silent sisterhood of solidarity. The dress code? White. All shades. All styles. Wedding gowns encouraged. The goal wasn’t to humiliate my mother. It was to strip her of her power to upstage.

By noon, the chapel looked like a Vogue editorial exploded—lace trains trailing down pews, pearl-covered sleeves glinting in the stained glass light, veils cascading like waterfalls. It was chaos. Glorious, coordinated chaos.

At exactly 2:45, a silver SUV rolled up.