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I felt my eyes get wide and my mouth drop open.
Have a good attitude, I told myself. It’ll look better once it gets off the hanger.
Lula was on the other side of the dressing room door. “How is it?” she asked. “Do you love it? Is it pretty?”
“I don’t have it on yet,” I said, swallowing down panic.
“Well, hurry up. I can’t wait to see it. This is exciting.”
Mary dropped the dress over my head and zipped it up. I had my eyes closed. I was afraid to look.
“Oh dear,” she gasped. “It’s just beautiful. It fits you perfect. It’s as if it was made for you.”
“Really?” I asked with my eyes still closed tight.
“It’s your color.”
“I don’t wear a lot of pink,” I said.
“It does wonders for your skin tone. Don’t you want to open your eyes and look at it?”
“No.”
“I want to look at it,” Lula said. “Open the door so I can see. I bet it’s ravishing.”
Mary opened the dressing room door for Lula. “Ta-da!”
“Holy cow,” Lula said. “That’s the ugliest dress I ever saw.”
“It’s from the Little House on the Prairie collection,” Mary said. “It’s very au couture this year. And it comes with a matching bow for her hair.”
I opened one eye and looked in the mirror. I bit into my lower lip and whimpered. The dress was two sizes too big, the bow made me look like I was starting kindergarten, and the color washed me out to vampire skin tone. It weighed about twenty pounds and it made swishing sounds if I moved.
“It’s lovely,” I said to Mary. “Is it fire retardant?”
“I don’t know,” Mary said. “No one ever asked that question.”
“That dress is just wrong,” Lula said. “You look like a pregnant flamingo.”
I blew out a sigh. “What about the positive attitude?”
“That was before I saw the dress. Now that I’m seeing the dress I’m thinking you want to come down with some bad contagious disease. Something gives you a rash and makes your brain melt.”
I smoothed the skirt out. “It isn’t that bad.”
“Yes, it is,” Lula said. “It’s an atrocity.”
“I’ll send Philomena out to make a few adjustments,” Mary said.
“Go babysit Tiki,” I said to Lula. “I’ll be done soon.”
Thirty minutes later we were on the road to Atlantic City.
“Don’t say another word about the dress,” I told Lula. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“I understand completely. That dress was a disaster.”
“Not another word!”
