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Lisa wiggles her eyebrows. "Give up, birthday girl. You're coming with us."
I laugh. "I cannotbelieveyou two bought me an outfit!"
Sheila's eyes twinkle mischievously. "Of course, we bought you an outfit. You didn't think we would let you off the hook that easily, did you?"
Lisa gives a little bow. "Just call us your fashion fairy godmothers." She stands up from her chair and shoos me toward the hallway. "You're going to snap necks in that dress. Now go try it on so we can get going!"
I shuffle to my bedroom like a teenager, groaning loudly even though I secretly love all the attention.
It's been far too long since I let myself enjoy life, and tonight is the perfect opportunity to break out of my comfort zone and celebrate. Forty-five years is a milestone worth acknowledging - and it's time for me to finally enjoy myself again.
Once inside my room, I shrug off my work uniform - jeans and a pink polo shirt - and watch them fall to the floor. Then, taking a deep breath, I slip into the dress Sheila bought me.
Instantly, I feel my confidence rising as the fabric hugs every curve of my body in all the right places. I turn around a few times in the mirror, admiring my reflection and wondering who this brave new woman is.
I've never been the most confident woman when it comes to my looks. I've always struggled with my weight, and it's only getting worse now that I'm working all day in a bakery. It also doesn't help that my ex-husband constantly commented about my appearance, telling me I needed to lose weight or get a facelift.
But tonight, I'm going to forget all of his cruel words and embrace my independence.
Tonight, I'm ready for a night out with the girls.
As I get ready to leave my bedroom, I spot my pink apron-shaped earrings sitting on my dresser. They were a gift from my mom, and I typically only wear them on special occasions. Since they are sparkly, like my dress, I decide to put them on.
A few minutes later, I return to the living room with my outfit complete. And when Lisa and Sheila let out a collective gasp, I can't help but feel a little proud.
"Denise, you look amazing!" Lisa exclaims, "That dress is perfect for you!"
I look at myself in the mirror, suddenly feeling shy. "I don't know. I think it might be a little short on me. And I've put on some weight..."
Lisa rolls her eyes. "Girl, that dress makes you look like a million bucks. Thick thighs save lives."
"I just don't want to embarrass myself," I admit to Lisa as I pinch my pillowy stomach. "Barton Beach is a small town, and it's been years since I've been to a bar. What if people see me and think, 'Wow, she really let herself go'?"
"Are you crazy?" Sheila snorts. "In that dress, you'll be making out at the bar with a hot hunk by 9 p.m."
I tug down the hem of my dress. "Sheila, I'm way too old to make out with a guy at a bar."
Lisa chuckles. "Honey, no one is too old to make out with a guy at a bar." Then she puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't let your dumb ex-husband get inside your head. He was a jerk who didn't appreciate how amazing you are. And as for anyone else's opinions, who cares? You're out here to have fun and celebrate your birthday. You deserve it."
I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. Lisa's words are exactly what I needed to hear. "You're right," I say with a grin. "Let's go out there and show everyone how hot we still are!"
We share another glass of wine while Lisa and Sheila get ready. Lisa is wearing a royal blue jumpsuit that perfectly complements her dark hair and accentuates her athletic figure. Her gold hoop earrings glint under the room's light, matching perfectly with her strappy gold heels.
Sheila is wearing a short, red dress that shows off her curvy silhouette, paired with a pair of black stilettos. Her blond hair is curled to perfection, and a vintage silver necklace rests elegantly around her neck.
With everyone finally ready, I step back to look at our trio.
"Well, aren't we a sight for sore eyes?" I chuckle, looking at them.
Suddenly, a car horn honks outside, and I almost drop my wine.
"It's time!" Lisa giggles, setting down her empty glass on the coffee table. "He's ready!"
I frown. "Who's ready?"
Instead of answering, they shuffle past me and open the front door.
As if they've rehearsed it, the two women step aside dramatically like two sides of a curtain. Behind them, Sheila's family car is parked on the street. It's a rust-colored minivan, which looks almost burgundy against the sunset. A tall, burly man steps from the driver's seat.
