Traitor.Cornered, I mutter, “Fine.” I’ll take a look, just a look, assuming they even carry my size.
Delighted, Lexie gives me a bright smile, and we follow Elle over to the rack of dresses. My slim friends are shown to the front while I make the walk of shame toward the back, past the row of single digits to the small selection in the latter teens. I find exactly four dresses: a black wraparound that might work. And an electric-blue sheath, emerald-green strapless, and ruby-red halter, all of which definitely won’t.
“What do you think?” Lexie asks, holding up a stunning one-shouldered dress in dark purple, which accentuates the violet in her eyes.
We all approve. Long and lean, Lexie is one of those women who could wear a garbage sack with panache. She holds up a few more options and adds those to her selections. Even Jordyn, whom I’ve seen only once in a dress—and that was for her brother’s wedding—finds three she likes.
When I display my choice, Lexie scowls at the black wraparound and walks over to assess the rejects.
“They’re not my style,” I tell her as she browses through the rack, giving each one a critical appraisal.
“How do you know what your style is when you limit yourself to black, navy, and gray? Look at these!” Lexie lifts the green and red dresses under my chin. “They work great with your olive skin.”
It’s not matching my skin tone that I’m worried about.
“Give them a try.”
Dreading it, but going through the motions so I don’t ruin this for her, I take both into the dressing room and draw the curtain around me. With my back to the mirror, I strip down to my thigh slimmer pantyhose and nude minimizer bra. The green dress has zero give. It takes some doing to squeeze my proportions into the strapless mermaid number.Ugh!I grunt, feeling like an overstuffed sausage.
“How’s it going?” Lexie asks through the adjoining curtain.
“Terrible!”
“Why?”
“The green’s too tight.”
“It’s supposed to be tight.”
“Not this tight.”
“Well, the purple’s not working for me either.” At an enviable size 6, my friend is not facing the same issue. “Try on the red one,” she encourages.
I peel and shimmy my way out of the clingy satin, on the verge of tears. It’s not just how much I hate trying on clothes that’s making me weepy. I remove the next unlikely choice off the hanger and slip it over my head. I slide up the hidden side zipper and knot the halter around my neck. Long chiffon straps hang down my bare back.
Turning, I reluctantly peek at my reflection in the full-length mirror—something I usually avoid doing. The shirred waist bears intricate beading, and the A-line skirt floats in soft waves to just below my knees. The most daring part of the dress, aside from the bold color, is the fitted bodice, which plunges at the neckline. If I thought the low V-neck top I wore to the Glam Bar on Thursday night was stepping out of my comfort zone, this is taking a flying leap.
Even though my wardrobe has come a long way from the baggy attire I used to wear for concealment over fashion, I still prefer the coverage of dark, conservative clothing. Nothing that shows too much skin or draws unwanted attention to myself. But admittedly, the dress itself is feminine…pretty…and very sexy. Something I wish I had the self-assurance and body to pull off.
“How’s the red one?”
At the sudden intrusion of Lexie’s voice, I blink away the ridiculous tears. Honestly, I’m acting like a basket case. “It’s not me.”
“Let me see.”
“I wanna see, too,” Jordyn chimes in, but without Lexie’s restraint she whips back the curtain.
Their eyes pop and their mouths drop open.
Embarrassed, I cross my arms over my breasts. “I told you it’s not me.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? The Twin Peaks in San Francisco have nothing on your boobs,” Jordyn says, glancing from me to her small chest beneath a sweetheart neckline. “If I had a rack like yours, I’d walk the streets topless.”
“Jordyn!” Lexie admonishes her. After sending Elle an apologetic smile, she turns to me and makes a spinning motion with her finger. “Twirl! I want to see the back and the flow of the dress.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Yes,” she insists.
