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“The cut is incredibly flattering,” she says, holding the hanger against my body again. “It would lengthen your shape.”
“I don’t want my shape lengthened.”
She laughs as though I made a joke. “Everyone wants to look taller.”
“I don’t.”
“The vertical detailing would also make you appear slimmer through the waist.”
My mother stops browsing.
I look at the dress, then at the woman who has ignored three polite refusals because commission apparently affects hearing.
“I said I didn’t like it.”
“I understand, but sometimes clients need to see something on before they appreciate what it can do for them.”
I lean forward and read her nametag. “Okay, Cheryl, tell me what it can do for me?”
She gestures toward my waist. “Visually.”
The rage inside me lifts its head.
Three months ago, I would have smiled, tried on the dress, bought it to avoid embarrassing her, then hated myself every time I saw it hanging in my closet. Seven weeks after Ryan left, I might have told her the dress looked like an upholstered puke colored couch and asked whether insulting customers was included in the price.
I have since learned how to filter my rage. Unfortunately for Cheryl, she keeps poking the fucking bear.
“I own a boutique and design clothing for women,” I tell her. “I know what vertical detailing does. I also know that telling a woman your dress will make her look taller and thinner is what you say when the dress has no other qualities worth selling.”
Her smile disappears.
“I don’t like the color, fabric, cut, or the way you’ve turned my body into a problem this garment is supposed to correct. I said no three times. Put it back.”
The associate blinks before lowering the hanger. “I was only trying to help.”
“No, you were trying to make a sale. There’s nothing wrong with that until you decide my insecurity is easier to manipulate than my taste.”
She leaves with the dress.
My mother slowly lowers the blouse she has been examining. “You made her reconsider her career.”
“She’ll recover.”
“I thought your experiment ended.”
“It evolved.”
Crystal studies my face. “Into what?”
“I no longer say everything that enters my head. I only say it when someone earns it.”
Her mouth curves. “That’s comforting.”
“It should be. You haven’t earned anything since lunch on Thursday.”
“I’ll remain vigilant.”
We continue shopping.
