An hour later I tentatively walk into the classiest boutique dress store in the city.
As I was driving I decided that I was being too hard on myself. I remembered that day I had my first interview with Kaden, but more importantly I remember how I felt looking in the mirror: like I was looking at a stranger.
Not only did I look totally glamorous that day, but I caught the eye and the full attention of Kaden.
I remember how he pursued me so passionately, every fiber of his being attuned to the task of acquiring first my body in his bed, then all of me in his life.
How can I possibly doubt how much I mean to him?
Maybe I’d just slipped from his radar for the moment. But this is my chance to prove not only to him, but also to myself, that I can be the woman he wants and needs at his side.
As I think that, I feel myself standing taller and I stride through the doors of the boutique.
My confidence is short-lived.
I’m immediately greeted by a sour-faced twenty-year-old. She doesn’t look much older than fifteen, though she must be older if she works here. Her voice certainly sounds older. Her short blond hair is cut in a stylish, slightly-longer-at-the-front style. Her makeup is immaculate, as are her sky blue painted nails.
“Good morning,” she says. No smile. “Can I help you?”
Sometimes I wonder if these exclusive boutiques want to actually sell anything. The owners are just so rich they don’t need to actually work, so they open a shop to allow them a place to be nasty and rude for the fun of it.
Not deterred, I smile brightly. “No, not just yet. I’m looking for a dress for a garden party, but I like to browse.”
“Hmm,” she says in reply.
She looks me up and down.
It’s not a quick once-over, or even the skilled inquiry of a professional. This is a slow dragging of her gaze, from my face down to my comfortable slip-on flats.
And then she frowns.
She actually frowns.
I have no idea how to respond to that so I smile even brighter till my cheeks hurt, and start moving amongst the spacious racks.
I can feel her at my back, her disapproval like a living thing picking at my clothes, my hair, and my shoes. Damn it, I should be used to this by now!
I pick out a black slight-weight dress covered in what looks like hibiscus blooms. I usually don’t like patterns or images on my clothes, but the flowers aren’t too big or small, and both clashed and complemented the black.
A low back and tastefully cut front and it looks like it might drop to about mid-thigh. It’s beautiful and perfect, and I told my supervisor so with a genuine smile.
“This is just what I was looking for,” I say without even looking at the price. Maybe that will impress her.
It doesn’t.
I tell her my size and she makes a sound that might be a stifled laugh. Now she smiles, but it’s not a nice smile.
It’s the kind of smile I remember all too well from high school.
“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding anything but. “We don’t have that size.”
Then she takes the dress and holds it up so I can see, as though she thinks I’m stupid and needs to demonstrate.
“This is the largest we have.” But still she holds it up as though somehow I might just want to try it on anyway.
It’s too small.
It’s clearly too small.
I’ve never been super skinny and nobody would ever call me willowy or even particularly graceful, but I’ve never considered myself big either. I have curves but I am not fat.
I am a woman.
I am a normal, natural woman with hips and breasts.
That’s what I want to shout at her.
But with the way she looks at me, her lips twisting as she gives me another slow once-over, I feel like a blimp.
I should say something.
I should demand to see a manager or make a comment about spending my money elsewhere. It’s not her fault that this shop only stocks clothes for skeletons and bobbleheads, but she doesn’t have to take so much glee in humiliating the normal-sized women among us.
But I don’t do anything.
I simply smile, turn, and walk out.
It’s not till I’m out on the street that my lower lip starts to tremble and I feel tears escaping from my stinging eyes.
Sucking in a sob, I quickly walk around the corner and out of sight of both the shop and other passersby. Still sniffling, I pull out my phone and call the one person I can count on.