as well. She’ll need some power suits.” He winks at me before leaving me with the blonde.
“Ms. Keck?”
I turn back to her. “I’m sorry, pardon?”
“I asked if you’re ready. We can start over here.” She’s still smiling.
“Um…sure…yes.” I follow her to the first rack of clothes.
She’s talking fast, pulling things up to show me, but I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never been in this kind of situation.
“What are some colors you like?”
“Black and gray.”
Her smile falters a bit. “Well,” she pauses, and then her smile makes an appearance again. “Let’s try some new colors and see what you like.”
I suddenly feel like a fool right now. I wish Harlow were here. She knows a lot about fashion, and I have no clue what I’m doing.
“A size ten?” She looks me up and down.
I shake my head. “I’m more of a fourteen.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know sizes, and you’re a ten hiding in size fourteen clothes.”
“I don’t like tight clothing; I have fat rolls,” I lean in and whisper. Not like she can’t see how fat I am.
“I promise you’ll look fabulous. Let’s just try a few things.” She gathers several items, and I reluctantly follow her. Remington and Arabella are sitting in a chair together playing on his phone. He looks up and smiles.
I’m not sure what to do. I don’t feel like smiling since this feels like an ambush. Remington has made a few comments about my clothes or outfits being too large, but his comments from the other night are ringing in my head.
Although, I’m mad right now…well…embarrassed too. This skinny thing is trying to tell me I’m a size ten. I know there’s no way.
Sharon opens the dressing room door. “Just step in, and when you’re done, I’ll hand you the next one or we’ll grab a different color or whatever you need.”
She sounds so bubbly; I quickly wonder how many espressos she has had today. I simply nod and take the first outfit from her.
When she shuts the door to the room, I take a deep breath. This is insane. I’ll just try one outfit and call it quits. I remove my clothes, but I don’t dare look in the mirror. The stretch marks and hanging saggy skin all makes me want to puke. It’s why I’ve never owned a full-length mirror.
I pick up the pink blouse and look at the tag. Size large. What a joke! There’s no way this tiny piece of material is going to cover all this fat.
I close my eyes and pray the blouse doesn’t rip as I try to get it on. I slide one arm in and then the other.
Okay. So far so good.
I began to button the blouse and hope I don’t have an unsightly gap at my disgusting breasts. But, for some reason, it seems to fit right on my body.
Must be a fluke.
I pull the black slacks off the hanger and check the tag. Size ten. Another joke. I push one leg in and then the other. My knees are weak as I easily button them.
What the hell?
I know I’ve been working out more, but a size ten? I slowly lift my eyes to the full-length mirror, and instantly, I panic. I don’t look too horrible. Well, not as horrible as I normally do.
“Ms. Keck, how’s it going?” Sharon asks from the other side of the door.
“Fine,” I call out. I turn to the left and right, checking myself out.
My breath is taken away. I close my eyes and take three deep breaths the way Caryn taught me. With each breath, I’m supposed to think of three good things about myself. Most of the time, nothing comes to mind. Actually, nothing ever comes to mine.
With my last breath, I open the door to Sharon’s blonde, skinny self standing there.
“See, I said a size ten,” she states with pride. “Anything you don’t like?”
“Um…no…” I quietly answer.
“Great. Here are several more outfits, jeans, and two suits. Just come out with each and I’ll make sure to adjust anything you need.”
I take the large stack of hangers and shuffle back into the dressing room. Each outfit,
Learning to Kill: Stories