Chapter 43
Katie
The next day Natasha, Mandie, and I were standing in one of the big department stores. I looked around with not a small amount of apprehension.
“You’re thinking that you don’t fit in here.” Natasha stood in front of me, a wry smile on her face. “Those mannequins…” We both looked at the slender figures placed around the floor. “You know your clothes will never hang the same way on your body.”
So why the hell am I here? I thought, and with a twitch of her lips, it was clear she was thinking the same.
“The whole vibe they’re creating here.” She waved her hand vaguely at the room. “It’s to subconsciously reinforce that idea. If you just diet, exercise, have surgery, deny yourself, you too will look as amazing as this.”
“I do most of those things,” Mandie said, shifting her body into one of the mannequin’s poses. “And I still don’t look like that.”
“It’s a bullshit vibe,” Natasha continued. “But businesses often have to create a problem which they can solve with a product they sell. Mandie and I do that all the time. We try to take women’s body or fitness dissatisfaction and channel it somewhere more positive through fitness at any size or skill level, but it's still selling them a product.”
“OK, but what the hell do I do when they have so few products that even fit me?” I plucked at the folds of a dress that was my size and winced at the extremely busy pattern. “And when those that do are butt ugly.”
“Glad to see we’re on the same page, because that is hideous.” Natasha dismissed the dress with a flick of her hand, then wandered deeper into the racks. “Now this…” She pulled out a pair of flowing, wide leg pants. “You’re an apple shape.” I blinked, knowing from all the health warnings that this was the worst kind. Not sexy, not hot like an hourglass. I was like a ball on legs and that had me flushing, something she seemed to notice. “That’s just genetics and environmental factors coming together to make you who you are. When we accept who we are, then we can find a way to work with what we’ve got and be happy with the result.”
My arms crossed without thinking, and then I stared at the pants. Mandie had built this whole thing up on my head, where I’d float into the beer garden, looking like a picture of feminine perfection and wearing black pants didn’t really mesh with that mental image.
“Say what you’re thinking.” I blinked at Natasha’s forthright words. “Say it. You can’t upset me, I promise.”
Was I going to do this? A whole bunch of stuff felt like it was jammed up inside me, but I kept it firmly hidden behind the mask I wore near constantly. Don’t let your anxiety show, even as we passed rack after rack of clothes that wouldn’t fit me. Don’t let Mandie or Natasha know how stressful this was. Don’t alert anyone to the fact that the lights were too bright here, the floor too reflective, and that every sound seemed to echo off it, rebounding and growing louder. I swallowed hard, trying to keep the words down, but Natasha had to go and ruin it.
“I can take it. Whatever you have to say, I can take it.”
Her manner was soft, reassuring, even if what she was saying was terribly abrupt. I stared into her eyes, hearing my heart racket around in my chest and then channelled Mandie as I opened my mouth.
“That’s easy for you to say.” I kept my tone as neutral as possible, because honestly, I didn’t wish harm on Natasha or anyone for that matter. “If a woman has the poor taste to be fat, society dictates that they should look like you.” I waved my hands in the air, making an exaggerated version of her shape. “You have curves.” I grabbed my stomach way too hard, feeling the pinch. “I have flab.”
“Every body is capable of being dressed well.” I let out an irritated huff, but when I went to look away, Natasha was there in my line of sight. “Every body. Marketing will have you thinking you have to shrink down, be a certain number on a scale or a tape measure, but you don’t have to buy into that bullshit. Anybody is capable of looking beautiful, especially you.”
She hung the pants back on the rack.
“And I’m thinking you don’t want to rock wide leg pants and a pretty blouse to this date.”
“A dress,” Mandie announced, picking up one and holding it against her.
“I mean—” I started to say.
“A dress. Something floaty and pretty that makes you feel all woman.” She spun around in a circle, forcing the hem to flare out. “A dress that makes every one of those guys swallow their tongue the moment you walk into the beer garden.”
Mandie was always trying to shoehorn me into the kind of clothes she thought worked for me, and for once, she was right. I did want that. I couldn’t remember the last real date I’d been on, and I certainly wasn’t wearing anything like what Mandie described. Was that possible? I wanted to reject the idea of it outright. Nothing in my past led me to believe that it was, but…
Maybe this time would be different?
Maybe I’d find the perfect dress and I’d look amazing. Maybe all three guys would actually deliver on their promise. Maybe this could be the start of something amazing. Hope was like a tiny little flame that became a roaring fire with just a tiny bit of fuel, and that had me standing tall and nodding to Natasha.
“Yeah, that. Let’s try that.”
“Pretty, floaty dress it is.”
Natasha was like a machine, flicking through clothes racks and pulling out items, either selecting them or dismissing them without a second thought. Finally she ended up with an armful of them, which was thrust my way.
“Let’s try these ones on. They may all suck.” Her brows wrinkled. “But they’ll give me an idea of what lines, what fabrics and colours, work best for you. Once we have an idea, I can start looking more seriously.” I took the dresses from her, my knees buckling slightly under the weight of not the fabric, but the expectations. “We’ll find you something you love, Katie, I promise. If not here…” She looked around the room. “Then I know some other places that might work better.”
“Ready to try on some frocks?” Mandie asked.
I wasn’t. I really, really wasn’t. There was a good reason why I avoided the department store change room, and it was this. Nothing seemed to make me feel worse about my body than harsh overhead lights and full-length mirrors. New year, new me. That refrain was getting battered, bruised, by how often I’d used it, but it got my feet moving, towards the change rooms and into a spare cubicle. I hung up the dress, stripped down to just my underwear and then pulled the first dress on.
“How’s it going?”
This felt like a performance in some ways, one I was ill prepared to carry off, but as I tweaked the folds of the dress, I remembered Natasha’s frank words. Really, her vibe was what had me opening the door to find the two of them standing there. Accept the shit, find a way forward, that seemed to be what she was saying, and this was the shit.
“Oh…” Mandie not having much to say was the reddest of flags as she looked me up and down.
“It’s hideous,” I said.
“Oh, no, it’s?—”
“Dear god, woman.” Natasha bustled forward. “Of course it is. This fabric is too stiff and is giving you a uniboob, so it's a definite no, but you don’t need to patronise Katie.”
I put my hand on my very stiff fabric covered hip and then shot her a smug look.
“Yeah, this is a patronising free zone.” I looked down and plucked at the fabric. “I look like a sausage casing that’s been stuffed with too much meat.”
“Meat…” How my sister passed high school. I don’t know, because mentally she remained about twelve. My eyes narrowed as she snorted. “I mean, maybe this dress works. If the date goes well, you will have tons of sausage and a whole lot of stuffing.”
“Hate you,” I said. “Hate you so very much.”
“Next dress.” Natasha was the only one willing to be an adult here, so she rifled through the dresses and then pulled out another one. “Try this. Softer, more flowing fabric. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it just shows all the lumps and bumps.”
It was definitely better, but when I opened the door, they weren’t wowed. The colour apparently washed me out. Some dresses were too big, more too small, despite them all saying they were the same size, and then, there was this one.
I didn’t care what they thought, this was the dress.
Black and made from a burnout velvet, the subtle floral pattern was replicated across the whole dress. As Natasha instructed, it nipped in at the smallest part of my body, just under my bust. The bodice criss-crossed in what she called a surplice bodice, making sure I didn’t have uniboob. No, each one was cradled and thrust forward, showcased with a plunging neckline. The skirt flared out around my legs, swirling as I moved and my arms were covered with a fluttery bell sleeve.
It was perfect.
“Everything OK, Katie?” Mandie asked. I didn’t reply, shifting back and forth just to feel the fabric play around my legs.
“If this one doesn’t work, we can find other dresses.” Natasha was using her best stay cool voice, but she didn’t need it. With a shaking hand, I undid the latch and the door swung open.
“Oh my god…” Some people might wonder why I was so close to my sister. She was a pain in my arse most days, but then there were moments like this. Mandie blinked, blinked, and then holy crap. Were those tears? “Katie, you look…”
“Beautiful.” Natasha gave me a satisfied nod. “But how do you feel?”
“Beautiful,” I agreed, and that had Mandie rushing forward, folding me into a hug.
“Those guys… If they don’t all turn up, I will personally go around to their house and kick their arses. Don’t think I won’t.”
“No one would doubt you, Maddy Pants.”
I ruffled her hair, just like I used to when we were kids, and that had her pushing away.
“OK, so now we’ve got the dress sorted, we need pretty undies, new shoes. Ooh! What about a facial?” Mandie was getting excited and my bank balance was cringing in anticipation. “Perfume.”
“Just a dress.” I waved a finger in her face. “You told me just a dress.”
“Yeah, but you should go all out.” She stared down at me. “This is special. My baby…” Her hands fanned her face, doing a fair approximation of Mum’s bullshit. “She’s all grown up and getting all the good dick.”
“Underwear we are definitely going to another place for, and Mandie can pay for it,” Natasha asserted.
That evening, I was standing in front of the mirror, dressed in new underwear, my new dress, and applying the new makeup Mandie had insisted I buy, carefully outlining my eyes with mascara. I’d started this year wanting to become a new person and, for the first time, I looked like one. When I stepped back, I tried to take everything in and failed.
There was a reason why I didn’t get dressed up a lot. My skin felt weird and it was like I couldn’t take a proper full breath, the new bra cutting into my ribs. But Mandie and Natasha had done the job. I was tense, on edge, ready to run out of the bathroom and toss everything off, but at the same time, I felt beautiful. That, I wanted to lean into that hard, and as if in response to the turmoil inside me, Mandie appeared.
“You look amazing.” She stepped into the small bathroom and stared at my reflection. “Your outside is finally matching the insides.” Her hands landed on my shoulders and she turned me around to face her. “And this change needs to go further than skin deep.”
“Mandie—”
“You’ve never really had guys that have made an effort for you.” Apparently today was the day for truth bombs, and everyone was dropping them. “They’re idiots, but also…” Her hands rubbed my arms. “You let them. Do me a favour and treat this like a real date. If you think you want to pursue things with them, spend some time getting to know them and make them prove they’ll be good for you.”
That was the accepted wisdom about relationships, right? Men could be anything from lovely or serial killers, and you’d never know without spending some time with them, and even then, there were no guarantees. Mandie was right. I just seemed to… fall into situations. Some guy said he was into me or wanted to fuck and I went along with it. He never went home, and I didn’t make him. Could this time be different? I tweaked the dress, hoping to get it to sit better, but before I could answer my own question, we heard a knock on the door.
“I’ve got it!”
Mandie ran out of the bathroom and towards the front door like a woman possessed, forcing me to shove the mascara wand back in the bottle and then move, lest she harangue my date on the doorstep.
Only for me to stumble into the living room and see Rhys standing there.
I almost didn’t recognise him. No longer in his uniform of gym gear, he looked amazing in the dark pants and pale grey shirt. His hair was still damp and combed back from his face, showcasing those brutal cheekbones, a dimple popping the moment he caught sight of me. Part of me worried that he wouldn’t like the dress, that it would be too formal for a date in a beer garden, but the way those grey eyes lit up? I knew for certain that this was a winner.
“Where are the others?” Mandie peered over his shoulder, not letting him take a step closer. “Tell me they didn’t have a ‘work emergency’ or something, because I will march down to that hospital, that fire station, and kick?—”
“The guys are waiting at the pub with Bronson,” he replied, though he remained completely focussed on me. “After the other day, I wanted a little one-on-one time for the drive. Katie, are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” I finally dared to smile. “Yes, let's go.”