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Half an hour later, Saylor has a rack full of tops, bottoms, dresses, and even shorts ready for me. She rolls the rack and stops in front of a dressing room. “Try each thing on and then come out to show us. If it needs alterations, we can do that also. If you hate it, we can put it back, but we have instructions that you need ten date night dresses, day clothes, and even a swimsuit and lounge wear.”
Then Saylor hands me a pink dress and a green one. “Try the pink one on first.”
The blush colored, soft pink dress is short and flirty with a ruffle at the bottom. The V-neck enhances my limited cleavage and the tie around my waist gives me curves that I generally try to hide. But I will admit it is comfortable, but my bra peeks out more than I’d like, so this is probably a no, but I’ll show them anyways.
I pull the curtain back and Henley gasps. “Ooh, KJ.”
“Is that good?” I ask her.
“Fuck yeah, it is. Your legs look a mile long and your tits are ready to be played with.”
Saylor tries to keep it together but we both see her laughing and call her out. “Look,” I say to her. “If you are embarrassed by that, then we probably need someone else to help us because that’s going to be the tamest thing she says today.”
“Oh no. I’m not bothered by it.” She points to Henley. “It’s nice to see friends having a good time while shopping. It should be fun not a chore.”
She’s right, it should be enjoyable, but it’s mostly torture. Though I’m determined to focus on spending the day with Hen. We don’t get to do this often, so I need to make the most of our time together.
“Thanks. This one is comfortable and soft, but I’m not sure of the V-neck. My bra shows, and I . . .” I can’t figure out how to explain what I’m thinking. I don't want her to think I’m a prude because I’m not. But I like to be conservative and classy in my clothing choices.
“Oh, that’s an easy fix. We can either get you a new bra or tack it a bit higher up so it shows less,” Saylor notes.
“Then we can put this in the maybe pile,” I say, walking back into the dressing room. While I change into the green maxi dress, I hear them talking and I’m pretty sure Henley thinks I need new lingerie also.
Pulling back the curtain, I move in front of the large mirror and smile. I love this long, washed out, olive maxi dress. It hits the top of my feet and feels like silk on my skin.
“Yass, girl,” Henley says. “This one is amazing.”
I nod at myself in the mirror and then turn around a couple of times. “This is a yes for sure.” My hips look slim, my waist tight and my arms are hidden, yet not emphasized. “Can I have ten of these?” I ask Saylor and she shakes her head and finger at me.
“No, ma'am, but we can find some other ones now that I know you like this shape.” She hands me two more dresses to try on next and then walks toward the back of the store, focused on finding something I’ll like.
The next four are awful. One I can’t get over my hips, one makes my shoulders look like I should be playing for the Bears, and one shows my ass cheeks when I walk. Nope not even going there. The last one is the best of the worst, but the color is a nude pink and I look like a corpse. I give them to Henley for her to hang back up and decide a need a break from dresses so I try on a couple pairs of shorts and tops.
“Oh, I like that outfit,” Henley says before I get all the way out of the dressing room.
I turn my back to the mirror and ask Hen to make sure my booty isn’t hanging out. I get that super short shorts are in fashion, but I’m not a teenager.
“Your booty looks fine. Ripe ready for the taking,” she says quickly.
Rolling my eyes, I sigh and turn trying to look at my butt. She’s not wrong, I’ve always had a nice ass, but these shorts really make it look good. I spin around and begin fidgeting with the buttons on the long-sleeved, teal print button up trying to figure out how to style it. I know that currently I look like a little girl wearing my dad’s shirt from the seventies.
Throwing my hands up, I don’t know what to do or how to fix it.
“Don’t panic,” Henley says. “Here is what you need to do.” I stand there while she unbuttons the sleeves, rolls them up to my elbows, then unbuttons the top three buttons. Moving behind me, she does the half tuck in the front before stepping away and pointing to the mirror. “See, it looks great. Remember just because the style falls into a certain category, you don’t have to wear it like that.”
She sits back down and Saylor hands us each a bottle of water. I immediately take a drink, then thank her for the water.
We talk about what has worked and what hasn’t so far. I am beginning to get a yes pile, but I still need so much more. So we keep going—more dresses, blouses, skirts, shorts, and even a bathing suit.
I’m tired of trying on clothes and my stomach is growling, so I come out in a blue gray romper with a boat neck that feels like I’m wearing pajamas and sit on the couch. “I need sustenance if we’re going to keep going,” I say to no one in particular.
“Agreed,” Henley comments. “I wonder what’s for lunch?”
“I don’t care, as long as it comes soon,” I complain.
Digging in my bag, I check my messages and the only one I have is from Xan.
Xan: Make sure to buy something in your favorite color.
