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Chuckling, Lydia finished in the bathroom. Still in her dressing gown, she was almost at the point where she needed to slip into the exquisite, yet disgustingly expensive, dress she’d bought whilst out shopping with Fe.
“No, well, yes, I want that. But I don’t put out on the first date.”
“Lydia, you almost put out on her kitchen floor!”
“Christ, I’m never gonna live that down.”
“Nope.” Fe said, giving the “p” in nope and extra pop.
“It’s not about getting laid. I’m tired of having to wear tampons and pads. I feel frumpy.”
“Give over! You look stunning. I’ve seen you in that dress, Lyds.”
“I can’t help the way I feel, Fe. I’m just tired of bleeding.”
Fe stood from the bed and took Lydia in her arms. “Sorry, I shouldn’t dismiss how you’re feeling. Maybe it is time to make an appointment with the hot doctor.”
“You think Elise is hot?”
“I’ve got eyes.”
Stepping out of the hug, Lydia looked at Fe with interest. “You rarely comment on hot ladies.”
“Just an observation. Now, hair and make-up. Times-a-ticking.”
“Shit.” Lydia’s nerves were at an all-time high. What was she thinking, asking Halle to attend the Ritz with her? That in itself was anxiety inducing. It’s not like Lydia screamed wealth or class. She was getting all dolled up to be judged by fancy people, and now she’d tacked on a first date! Talk about pressure.
With her hair and make-up done, Fe helped slip the green vintage half-sleeve cocktail dress over Lydia’s head. It was fancy, but not over the top. Next came the shoes. Two-inch lace-up high heels that kept in line with the era of the dress.
“Wowzer!” Fe exclaimed, wolf whistling. “Halle’s going to pass out.”
“Stop,” Lydia laughed.
“No, seriously. Lydia, look at yourself in the mirror.” This was the bit Lydia had wanted to avoid. She was getting better at being kind to herself when faced with her body, but at a time like this, the pressure made her see only flaws.
Fe took Lydia by the shoulders and moved her to the long mirror in the bathroom. Lydia’s archnemesis. Drawing in a breath, Lydia brought her eyes up from the floor and looked.
“What do you see?” Fe asked softly. Lydia had opened up to Fe recently about her body dysmorphia. To her utter surprise, Fe had been wonderful.
“I… wow, okay, I look good.”
Fe’s bright smile lit up the bathroom. “Lyds, you look gorgeous. I think you’ve really nailed your style. Vintage suits you.”
Nodding, Lydia continued to survey herself. The dress fit snuggly but didn’t cling to the point it felt uncomfortable. Sure, she could see areas where a few extra pounds sat, but the overall look of the dress and shoes overpowered that self-criticising part of Lydia’s mind. “I love it,” she all but whispered.
“I’m so excited for you! What time is she picking you up?” Fe squeezed Lydia’s shoulders in excitement.
“Half two. Our sitting is at half three.”
“Oh, hark at you. ‘Our sitting is at half three,’” Fe mocked in an aristocratic tone.
“You idiot,” Lydia laughed. “That’s what they call the time you book. It’s a sitting.”
“Have you prepared?”
“Of course. I read the menu online four times last night. I’m not daft enough to walk into the Ritz without doing my homework first.”
“Did Cathy tell you to book a room?” Fe smiled, waggling her eyebrows. Fe and Cathy had become closer recently. In fact, Fe was hanging out a lot more. Not just with Lydia, Halle, and Cathy, but with other mums she knew from the kids’ school as well. It seemed Fe was serious about getting right with herself and standing on her own two feet.
