My Parents Skipped My Wedding Because I Married Before My “Perfect” Sister. Now…

The Golden Child and the Second Daughter

My parents skipped my wedding because I married before my perfect sister. Now their perfect family image is finally crumbling.

After being together for four years, I, 32F, got married eight months ago. Except for my sister, Molen, 30F, and my parents, everyone went to the wedding.

My parents’ decision to skip the event was startling, but I wasn’t overly shocked by my sister’s absence because we’ve never really gotten along. However, considering our past, I should have anticipated it.

I’ll give you some background on our family’s dynamics. I can’t completely blame my parents for constantly favoring my sister over me throughout her life.

She has been exceptionally good at almost everything. She was the center of attention in every room she visited.

As soon as she could walk, she won every spelling bee, science fair, and talent show in elementary school. Class president, valedictorian, and prom queen were all very much the same in high school.

Tall, slender, and attractive enough, she pursued modeling while in college before concentrating on her business degree. She got her first modeling job during her sophomore year and I can still remember it.

To celebrate, my parents invited all of our family members and her friends to a lavish party. Her first professional headshot was framed and hung in our living room, where it remains to this day directly above the fireplace.

The same year, I received my degree in computer science. They merely murmured: “Well done.”

And resumed organizing Molen’s next photo session. She immediately climbed the corporate ladder after graduating and landing a job at a prominent company.

She already has a corner office and a corporate car at the age of 30, making her a senior executive. In the meantime, I work for a respectable computer company as a mid-level software developer.

Although I’m pleased with my work and it’s a decent profession, it’s not the type of employment that makes parents boast in front of the family. In addition, I’m bigger and shorter than my sister.

My mother made crude remarks about my appearance, signed me up for workout classes I didn’t want to attend, and put me on diets all the time. When I was growing up, she would say: “Molen never struggles with her weight.”

Or: “You could look as nice as your sister if you just put in a little more effort.”

Even though I had learned to ignore these remarks by high school, they had an impact. Over the years, I’ve accepted these distinctions.

I ultimately came to terms with the fact that my parents never took as much delight in my accomplishments as they did in Molen’s. What was my option?

I tried to get their approval for years by attending classes they recommended, joining clubs they encouraged, and even attempted modeling for a short time. A failure my sister never lets me forget.

However, nothing was ever sufficient. I was merely the second daughter and they were completely enamored with my sister’s achievements.

I gave up attempting to impress them sometime in my mid-20s. I concentrated on creating my own life, growing professionally on my own terms, and forming bonds with individuals that respected me for who I am.

To be honest, following that, things have improved. Knowing that my parents were constantly concerned about maintaining appearances, I kept my interactions with them superficial in order to prevent conflict.

During our mandatory Christmas meals and specific family get-togethers, I would nod and grin while they raved about Molen’s most recent job, lover, or vacation spot. Since they had Molen to swoon over, they didn’t seem to notice my emotional distance.

A Perfect Engagement and a Silent Response

Then, at a computer conference, I ran upon my spouse through a mutual friend. He noticed me, actually saw me, unlike my family.

He liked my dry sense of humor, my ability to code, and yes, even my body type. Right from the beginning, he never once said I should change or make comparisons to other people.

He popped the question to me after four years of dating when we were alone at home enjoying takeaway and our favorite TV in the background. It was flawless.

Naturally, I told my folks that I was engaged last year. My first clue should have been their response.

There was no congratulation, only stillness. My mother then questioned whether I was certain I wanted to jump right in and recommended that I might want to improve my physical condition before the wedding.

My father didn’t say much at all. During the engagement party, my husband noted their odd reaction, which I was too anxious to fully comprehend at the time.

They crouched over my mother’s phone in a corner for the majority of the evening. My husband then informed me that he had heard them talking to Molen on the phone, who was clearly crying.

They were talking about how this wasn’t the plan and how they never expected Rebecca to get married first. According to what he vaguely heard, there were some minor setbacks.

During the wedding planning process, despite not even being engaged at the time, my mother had already made many wedding Pinterest boards for Molen and was not interested in assisting me in selecting a dress or location. When I selected my dress, a straightforward yet exquisite A-line gown that made me feel lovely, my mother merely remarked: “It was practical and suitable for your figure.”

My future mother-in-law, who treated me like the daughter she never had, and I ended up working together on the majority of the preparations. I carefully reviewed and double-checked the guest list with my spouse to be sure no one was overlooked before sending out both electronic and paper wedding invitations.

I am certain that my parents received theirs because the electronic invitations included red receipts. I called, texted, and emailed them several times after realizing they hadn’t RSVP’d.

My emails were either ignored or met with evasive responses stating that they were very busy and needed to check their schedules. I couldn’t waste too much energy worrying about it because I was too busy getting ready for the wedding.

My in-laws were incredibly helpful, offering assistance with everything from seating maps to floral arrangements. Even at the lovely bridal shower hosted by my husband’s sister, the painfully obvious absence of my own family was never brought up.

The Empty Seats

Even though my parents weren’t there, the wedding day itself was beautiful. We held a laid-back afternoon celebration after the morning wedding in a garden setting.

Everyone was right when they said we looked so content and in love. But there were times when their absence felt like a physical anguish, such as when I saw the front row seats empty or at the father-daughter dance that I was not able to attend.

I sought answers after the honeymoon and wedding. When I eventually reached them on the phone, they said they were deeply hurt that they had never gotten a formal invitation.

My mother launched into a lengthy tirade about how careless I was, how she had always wanted to assist in organizing her daughters’ weddings, and how she couldn’t comprehend why I would leave them out of such a significant occasion.

I was perplexed by this since I was positive we had given them both kinds of invitations. During the call, I verified that we had indeed sent them by looking through our records.

Even the physical invitation’s delivery was confirmed. I didn’t confront them about their attempts to gaslight me.

I just said I was sorry for the error and hung up. Later, my husband brought up a number of incidents that demonstrated their true intentions.

He mentioned the way they appeared surprised rather than delighted when we told them we were engaged, or the way they continued coming up with reasons not to assist with the wedding planning. He hadn’t brought up these findings earlier because he didn’t want to add to my anxiety during the wedding planning process.

In retrospect, the pattern was clear. The idea that I, the less successful daughter, was getting married before their beloved Molen was too much for them to bear.

Their demeanor simply served to validate what I had always suspected but had resisted: that I would never be able to compete with my sister in their eyes.

The most depressing thing was learning that even my wedding day, which ought to have been a celebration of love and fresh starts, turned into yet another front in their never-ending war to preserve their ideal family image with Molen at its core.