“I still don’t get it,” I said.
“So, you look cute,” Angela said. “But what if you traded your pants for something that came above your ankles, and then wore heels?”
“That sounds painful.”
“And ditch the cardigan,” Angela added. “And get a cuter blouse – you know, something that actually fits you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You can stop insulting my whole wardrobe now,” I said testily.
Angela laughed. “June, I didn’t mean it like that.” She sighed. “But a dramatic change is too much, at least, for now. Unless you feel comfortable in something, you won’t look sexy.”
I stared at her.
“Remember the black dress?” Angela gesticulated with her hands, drawing them tightly from her bust line to her hips. “You know -- the first dress I picked out for you to wear on your date.”
“I wouldn’t ever wear something like that,” I said quickly.
Angela grabbed my hand. “That’s the point,” she said. She tossed her hair, looking smug. “Because you wouldn’t feel comfortable in it.”
I blinked. “I guess I get that,” I said.
“So, for now, we just…upgrade a few things,” Angela said. “And we branch out, until you start feeling sexy. Then you can rock stuff like this,” she added, pointing towards a trench coat.
I frowned. “I could wear that now,” I said.
Angela stared at me for a few seconds before she burst out laughing. “June, I mean like, wear it without anything on underneath.”
I blushed and gaped. “You can’t mean that,” I said hotly.
Angela smirked. “Thomas would love it,” she said, tossing her hair. “Come on,” she added. “Let’s go to sportswear. I’ll pick some cute stuff for you, okay?”
I frowned. “Okay,” I said. “I’m not feeling very optimistic, though.”
Angela laughed. “You don’t have to,” she said. “It’ll come. Don’t worry, June. I’ll make sure you look super hot.”
I rolled my eyes.
But an hour and a half later, I was surprised to see that Angela had been right. She picked out a pair of black cigarette jeans for me that hit just above the ankle and a pair of sandals with a low heel that looked deceptively sexy once I was wearing them.
“You do innocent well,” Angela said. She narrowed her eyes and surveyed me. “So, you should stick with that and make it work.”
I sighed and twisted my long black hair into a knot.
Angela held up a blouse. It wasn’t like most of my tops. It was navy cotton, with puffed short sleeves and ribbon threaded around the eyelet cuffs.
“Try this on,” Angela said.
I took it and slumped into a dressing room. I was tired – even on the best of days, I hadn’t always enjoyed shopping. It always felt like tedious work to me. And even though I knew I had a decent body, I always looked so puffy and fat in the florescent store lighting. Even expensive stores, like Neiman Marcus, didn’t seem to have very flattering fitting rooms.
I sighed as soon as the blouse was on and stomped out of the dressing room. Angela grinned when she saw me. She tugged the neckline of the blouse down and moved the short sleeves so they sat just off my shoulders.
“That looks sexy,” Angela declared. She spun me around and pointed to my reflection in a mirror. “You agree?”
I bit my lip. “I hate to say this,” I said. “But you’re right.”
Angela grinned triumphantly. “Come on,” she said. “I need a new pair of shoes, and then we can go get ice cream. You look like you’re ready to drop dead.”
I nodded. “I hate shopping,” I told her as I carried my purchases to the counter.