12. Selene
12
SELENE
I take a deep breath as I try to push away the urge to run in the opposite direction. The last thing I want to do is be here, but I came here for moral support.
And look what that got me.
“Stop looking like you would rather be any place but here,” Isla says as she steps in front of me and gives me a look.
“But that’s the truth. I would rather be any place but the mall right now,” I throw back at her.
She cocks her head to the side, studying me like I'm a fashion misfire. “Selene, we’ve been to the mall before, and you’ve had no issues with it. What’s wrong?”
“It's just... really crowded today. You know I'm not great with crowds.”
Isla raises an eyebrow. “But you have no issues with going to college parties where we are jam packed in a room like sardines.”
“That's different,” I protest, though I know she's right. College parties have a kind of chaotic, familiar energy that I can handle. The crowds here actually have nothing to do with why I don’t want to be here.
Isla gives me a sad smile and hooks her arm through mine. “Selene, if you don’t want to be here, just tell me. I can come back another time.”
I meet her gaze, and for a moment, I’m tempted to tell her the real reason why I’m doing my best not to freak out, but I swallow the urge. No, I can handle this. I need to handle this.
“I’m already here,” I say, forcing a smile. “You need some new clothes, and I’m here for moral support.”
“Okay, but if you get too overwhelmed, we can bail. Promise.”
“Promise,” I say, hoping I won’t have to break it.
Isla stares at me for a split second and then pulls me forward. “Fine. But you owe me a giant pretzel for this stress.”
I laugh, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. “Deal. A giant pretzel is a small price to pay for your expert fashion advice.”
Isla grins. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.” She tugs me, and soon I’m following her toward this trendy boutique. “Now come on, I saw the cutest top in here last week that I think would look amazing on you.”
My stomach twists at the thought of trying on clothes, but I paste on a smile and let Isla pull me inside. The store is filled with bright colors and bold patterns, racks packed with the latest styles. Isla makes a beeline for a display of flowy blouses, and I’m left trailing behind her.
“What about this one?” She holds up a blue top with delicate embroidery along the neckline. “It would pop because of your hair.”
I barely glance at it before shaking my head. “Not really my style.”
Isla frowns but doesn't push, moving on to another rack. I follow behind her, trying to pretend to be interested as she gives her opinion on the clothes. But with each passing minute, the knot in my stomach grows tighter.
It's not that I don't like shopping. I do, usually. But lately, every time I step into a dressing room, all I can see are the ways my body doesn't measure up. The way the fabric is tight across my stomach, the way my thighs look huge in skinny jeans.
Isla pulls out a floral sundress and holds it up to me. “This would look so cute on you! You have to try it on.”
I take the dress from her, running my fingers over the soft fabric. It's beautiful, but I can already imagine how it will cling to all the wrong places. “I don't know. It's not really my style either.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Selene, what's going on? You love sundresses. And you've vetoed everything I've suggested so far.”
I sigh and do everything I can to avoid looking her in the eyes. “I'm just not feeling it today, okay? Maybe we should just go get that pretzel.”
Isla's expression softens and she takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, talk to me. What's really bothering you?”
I blink back the sudden tears that spring to my eyes. I fucking hate how emotional and vulnerable I feel. “It's stupid. I just... I don't feel good about myself right now. Nothing fits right and I feel like everyone is staring at me, judging me for not being as thin as you or the other girls here.”
Isla's eyes widen with surprise just before she pulls me into a tight hug. “Oh, Selene. I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were feeling this way. You are beautiful, inside and out. Your worth is not defined by your dress size or what anyone else thinks. You are strong, confident, and amazing just as you are.”
I sniff, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I know; logically I know that. But sometimes it's hard to really believe it, you know? I need to get a handle on all of this again,” I say, gesturing to my body.
“I do know,” Isla says softly. “Body image stuff is no joke. It can mess with your head. But I'm here for you, always. And I think you're a total goddess, for the record.”
Her words make me smile even as a few stubborn tears escape down my cheeks. I break our hug and then say, “Thanks and this is obviously why we are best friends.”
She pulls out a tissue from her purse and hands it to me. “It’s one of many reasons. I’m not sure I would have gotten through living in NYC or my PCOS diagnosis without you.”
“Okay, now you’re going to make me start sobbing in public. Thanks a lot.”
I can see tears starting to well up in Isla’s eyes now. “Look at us, getting all emotional in the middle of a store. People are going to think we're crazy.”
I smile at her through my tears. “Let them. We're allowed to have a moment.”
We both take a few seconds to collect ourselves, dabbing at our eyes with tissues. When we've composed ourselves, I tell her, “Okay, enough of the pity party. Let's just grab that pretzel and call it a day.”
Isla pauses, but then says, “I have another idea if you’re okay with it.”
“What is it?”
“I think I might have a store in mind that you might feel more comfortable in if you want to check it out. If not, I’m down to go get pretzels.”
She takes my hand and leads me out of the shop and after five minutes, we finally stop in front of a store I've never been in before. The window display features mannequins of all shapes and sizes, dressed in trendy but comfortable looking clothes.
“This place just opened last month,” Isla explains. “They specialize in clothes for all body types. And look, they even have a sign about body positivity right in the window.”
I look at the sign she's pointing to. In bold letters, it reads “Love Your Body. Every Body is Welcome Here.”
Something about the message makes my throat tighten with emotion. Isla gives my hand a squeeze. “Let's go in, just to look around. No pressure, okay?”
I nod and let her pull me inside. The store has a warm, inviting atmosphere, with soft lighting and upbeat music playing. A saleswoman with the name ‘Kate’ written on her nametag greets us with a friendly smile.
“Hi there! Welcome in. Let me know if you need any help finding your size or trying things on.”
I manage a small smile back at Kate. “Thanks, we're just browsing for now.”
Isla leads me further into the store, her eyes already scanning the racks. “Ooh, look at these jeans! They have so many different fits.”
She holds up a pair of dark wash skinny jeans with a high waist. “These would look amazing on you, Selene. And they go up to size 18!”
I hesitate, running my hand over the soft denim. “I don't know, Iz. Jeans and I haven't exactly been on speaking terms lately, which is why I wear the same ones I’ve always worn or leggings.”
“Just try them on,” she encourages. “No commitment required. And look, they have stretch!”
I take a deep breath and accept the jeans from her. “Okay, fine. But if they don't fit, we never speak of this again.”
Isla mimes zipping her lips. “Deal. Now go. I'll grab a few tops that would look cute with them.”
With the jeans and an armful of blouses and sweaters Isla picked out, I make my way to the fitting room. Kate unlocks a door for me with a reassuring smile.
“Take your time! And remember, if you need anything I’m right here, gorgeous.”
Her unprompted kindness catches me off guard. “Oh, um, thank you,” I stammer before ducking inside.
In the privacy of the dressing room, I strip down to my underwear and avoid looking at myself in the mirror. With a deep breath, I slip on the first pair of jeans Isla picked out. I'm surprised when they glide over my curves without resistance. Slowly, I turn to face the mirror.
The girl looking back at me looks...good. Really good. The jeans hug my hips and thighs in all the right places, smoothing and shaping rather than squeezing and pinching like I'm used to. For the first time in a long time, I actually feel sexy in a pair of jeans.
Fighting back a smile, I try on one of the tops. It’s a flowy, off-the-shoulder burgundy blouse. The color is stunning against my red hair and the drape of the fabric skims over my stomach in a way that makes me look effortlessly chic rather than self-conscious about my midsection.
I can't help but do a little twirl in front of the mirror, watching the way the outfit moves with me. I feel confident, beautiful, like I could take on the world. Tears rise again at the corners of my eyes. When was the last time I felt this good about myself?
A soft knock at the door startles me out of my reverie. “Selene? How's it going in there?” Isla's voice filters through.
“I'm...I'm good, actually.” My voice shakes slightly. “Really good. I think you need to see this.”
I open the door and step out. Isla's hands fly to her mouth as she squeals in delight. “That outfit was made for you. Seriously, you're a total bombshell.”
I can't help but grin. “You really think so? I don't know, it's been a while since I felt this good in clothes...”
“Oh this makes me so happy! I did ask Kate to grab a couple of other things for you to try on. And if I’m doing too much, please tell me.”
My gaze narrows at her. “Isla, what did you do?”
At that moment, Kate appears with some more clothes, but not too many thank goodness. However, when I notice that several of them have lace, I know this is actually what Isla was referring to. “I found a few more pieces I thought would be perfect for you and a few pieces of lingerie if you’re interested.”
I feel my cheeks grow red as I take in the lacy lingerie Kate is holding up. “Oh, um, I don't know about all that,” I barely get out, but I manage to shoot Isla a look.
She just grins at me. “Come on, Selene. You deserve to feel sexy, inside and out. At least try a couple pieces on?”
Kate chimes in, “The material is so soft, you'll forget you're even wearing it.”
My eyes dart between the two women in front of me before I give in.
“Okay, fine,” I relent, taking the garments from Kate. “But if I hate them, I’m never speaking to you again!”
“Yeah, yeah whatever. If you need me, just holler. I’ll be trying on my own clothes.”
Back in the fitting room, I slip a matching bra and panty set in a rich plum color over my own underwear. The bra has a plunging neckline that showcases my cleavage in a way that manages to be both tasteful and sexy. The panties are a cheeky boyshort style that highlights the curve of my ass.
I take a deep breath before turning to face the mirror. The reflection staring back at me takes my breath away. The lingerie hugs my curves in all the right places, accentuating my figure rather than trying to hide it. I feel powerful just wearing this for myself. For the first time in a long time, I don't immediately zero in on my perceived flaws. Instead, I see a confident, sexy woman looking back at me. Not to mention I notice the gains I’ve been making at the gym as well. All of this is a reminder that I am more than just my doubts and insecurities.
I hear Kate's muffled voice from outside the fitting room. “Are you okay in there? Do you need help with anything?”
A smile plays on my lips as I call back, “I'm fine, thank you for this. I'll be out in a minute.”
Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I straighten my posture, feeling a newfound sense of confidence that is anything but fake. With a deep breath, I push open the door and allow Kate to see me.
“Wow,” Kate says as she checks that the items fit properly. “Told you the lingerie would make you feel amazing.”
“You’re right. I’ll definitely take these and maybe another set if you have them in a different color?”
Kate gives me a big smile with that announcement. “I’ll see what I can find.”
Once she leaves, I close and lock the dressing room door behind her and take another look at myself in the mirror. I can’t help but smile at myself because, for once, my anxiety has decided to let me just be. And I’m okay with that.