What does one wear to a jazz club? she wondered. Should I eat first or later? Would there be kissing? Would he touch my stomach?
Elly was starting to hyperventilate. She took a sip of her wine to calm her nerves. She forced herself to focus on something else. Isaac’s eyes. Those deep brown cosmos, so much like hot chocolate… That was the last thing she remembered thinking as she drifted off to sleep there, on top of her roof, the bright stars above becoming bursts of light beneath her eyelids.
The next morning, after a panicked phone call to Kim, Elly stood in front of Figure, a popular plus-sized women’s store, waiting for Kim to arrive. She was now 20 minutes late, and Elly was both annoyed and warm. Her hair was frizzed out and she was seriously craving a crepe. She heard heels approaching and turned around with a smile on her face. It didn’t last. Snarky Teenager stood in front of her, shopping bags in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
“Oh hey” she mouthed, “Hold on.”
She was wearing what looked like a swimsuit cover-up and bright lemon heels. Elly raised her arms up in confusion.
“Okay. Okay. I know. No, there is NO WAY I am wearing a simple black dress. It’s demeaning. Whatever.” She hung up the phone. “Hey. Sorry.”
There was an awkward pause. “Umm…what are you doing here?”
“Kim called me. She couldn’t come. Something came up. She said you needed help finding a dress for your date?”
Elly hoped that somewhere today a bird pooped on Kim’s head.
“That’s very nice of you to come – I can’t believe Kim called you – but I should be fine.”
Snarky Teenager arched one perfect eyebrow.
“No, you won’t be. You totally dress like my grandma.”
Elly’s jaw dropped. “I’m your boss, you know. You can’t say stuff like that to me.”
Her young ingénue smiled. “Yes, I can. I mean like, whatever. Today is my day off. It’s all honesty from here on out.”
Elly sighed. This was going to be very painful.
“Okay – I’m going to kill Kim – but I could maybe use an extra eye. Here are the rules: You are not allowed to say the word ‘fat’ at any time, at any place. Also, I am not buying any sexy underwear. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“That’s fine,” Snarky Teenager replied. “I’m not even wearing underwear.”
And on that note, they entered Figure.
They were greeted by two curvy mannequins that were complete with large breasts and thighs and even little love handles. Elly wanted to hug them.
“Oh my God, how weird,” hissed Snarky Teenager, “They are, like, fat …” She trailed off as Elly shot her a death look.
“Fat-tastic!” she finished.
They ventured farther into the store. So many beautiful fabrics surrounded them. Plum blouses dripping with sequins, apple red halters, sleek navy dresses, earrings and belts and shoes and bras…all in sizes that could fit Elly. No praying, squeezing, tears or ripped zippers. There would be no crushing sense of just how round she was. Here, she was the smallest size on the rack, and that was a good feeling. She threw a couple of blouses and pairs of pants over her arm. Snarky Teenager reached for a lacy corset top. Elly slapped her hand.
“No way. Don’t even think about it. I want something classy, flattering and just a tiny bit sexy.”
“Okay,” said Snarky Teenager. “So, where are you going, anyway?”
“A jazz club.”
The sneer on Snarky Teenager’s lips showed that she could not think of anything more laughable, and she stalked off in the directions of the formals. Elly hated her life at this moment. She loathed clothing shopping. Candles, furniture, flowers – she didn’t mind picking out nice things for her place – but anything that required looking in a mirror that showed her from behind was the equivalent of dropping a hair dryer in the bathtub while bathing.
She heard a murmured “What the…?” and turned to see Snarky Teenager marveling at the size of a pair of pants. They were literally twice the width of her body. A small, round saleswoman approached her timidly.
“Miss, can I help you?”
Snarky Teenager spun around.
“Oh, I’m helping my friend.” She gestured in Elly’s direction. “She needs a dress for a date, and I guess she doesn’t fit into the clothes at, like, a normal store, so she’s shopping here.”
The woman looked ready to strangle her, so Elly jumped in.
“Sorry, sorry, my…uh, my niece is just helping me.”
The woman gave her a strained smile, glancing at her “niece,” who was trying to see if she could make a plus-sized tube top into a mini-skirt.
“Good luck, ma’am.”
Elly was mortified. “I’m going into the dressing room now.”