Right now, it ended mid-thigh. If I let go of it, the dress would be a little further up than that. If I bent down even once, I would flash everyone in the room with my panties.
The sweetheart neckline was as predicted, showing the top curve of my boobs; so much so, I was afraid my nipples might accidentally slip out if I took in a deep breath. There was a built-in bust that pushed my boobs up and made them look bigger than they were, so a bra was out of the question. And the strings holding the dress up from my shoulders were just that.
Strings.
Fuck, why the hell did she pick this dress for me to wear?
I had never felt more unattractive than I did now. It didn’t help that I was currently riding out the last days of my period and feeling bloated and unwell.
I never had a regular period growing up, not with all the diet restrictions I had been on, but it had gotten better when I moved away, and luckily, I had kept up a healthy weight, even after moving back here.
I used an app on my phone to keep track of my period, and based on the history report, I was on a twenty-three-day cycle. So regular that I could even predict the day my next one would start.
I was really trying.
I was trying so hard to be healthy, and stay healthy…
But she just…
She just made it so hard.
And this dress.
I didn’t know why she got this.
I looked at the heels she had sent with the dress. Five-inch stilettos would be very hard to walk in. The red soles showed the brand and told me they probably cost more than I spent on monthly rent. Mom had been using money she didn’t have on expensive clothes.
I shook my head, put those heels back into their box, and pulled out the black flats I had gotten at Target.
They didn’t make the dress any better, but at least I would be able to walk tonight.
I selected a white cardigan from my closet and put it on, taking another look at myself.
Not as bad as before. I would just have to make sure I didn’t bend over in front of anyone all evening.
This would be okay.
I gathered my hair up into a ponytail.
Much to Mom’s dismay, I wasn’t a girly-girl growing up. I never got into nice, frilly clothes or makeup, no matter how many times she tried to push it on me, wanting me to be just like her.
I couldn’t even bring myself to feign interest, though I wished I had paid more attention when she showed me how to style my hair.
I didn’t know what to do with it, so a low ponytail would be the way to go for the evening.
I licked my dry lips and took in a deep breath.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Okay.
I could do this. I really could.
2
GEMMA
Mom’s lipswere set in a thin line when I pulled up in my old red Honda.
