Chapter 5 Amara #2
"Let me see," my mother called.
I stepped out of the fitting room reluctantly and her face fell the second she saw me.
"Oh. That's... well, it's a bit much, isn't it?"
A bit much was code for I needed to see the inside of somebody's gym.
"Yeah," I said quietly, turning to head back into the dressing room. "I'll try the next one."
The second dress was worse. It was a mermaid style that refused to zip over my hips. I didn't even bother showing my mother that one. The third was a pink ball gown with so much tulle I looked like a cupcake.
"No," I said to my reflection. "Absolutely not."
I changed back into my regular clothes and stepped out of the fitting room, the rejected dresses hanging over my arm.
"Nothing?" my mother asked, her voice sharp with disappointment.
"Nothing."
The saleswoman appeared again, all smiles and suggestions. "Perhaps we could look at some other styles? We have some lovely A-line gowns that are very forgiving."
This entire damn shopping trip seemed to be nothing short of an event to just call me fat at every single turn.
"Sure," I said, because what else was I going to say?
She led us to a different section, pulling out dress after dress. Most of them were fine, even pretty.
Yet none screamed my name.
They were too fancy, or too formal. They just seemed to be way too over the top for my liking.
I tried on six more dresses, each one making me feel fatter than fat and more inadequate than the last. My mother's sighs were getting louder as if it was her ass that was the size of the moon. I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.
"Maybe we should try a different store," she said finally.
The saleswoman's smile tightened. "Of course. Though I really do think if you just tried the shapewear we carry..."
Shapewear.
"I'm good, thanks," I said, my voice tight because I was just a few moments from letting all my frustrations fly.
We left Marchand's empty-handed.
My mother was silent on the drive to the next boutique. I could feel her frustration radiating off her in waves.
"You know, Amara," she said finally. "If you'd just lose a few pounds, this would be so much easier."
Finally my mother let me know what she'd been thinking about the entire time.
"I'm not losing weight for a dress, Mom," I eyed her.
"I'm not saying you need to lose a ton of weight. I'm just saying it would make things easier for you."
In reality my mother meant it would make things easier for her. So she wouldn't be embarrassed showing up to the gala with a daughter who didn't fit the mold.
"Can we just find a dress that fits?" I asked, staring out the window.
She fiddled with the stereo, adjusting the sound. "That's what I'm trying to do, sweetheart."
The second boutique was smaller and so much less pretentious. The owner was a woman in her fifties who smiled warmly when we walked in. A small vase of pink tulips sat on the counter, cheerful against the gray February afternoon outside.
"Welcome! What can I help you ladies find today?"
"A gown for the Solas Valentine Gala," my mother said, but her voice was less sharp now. She seemed a little bit tired by this point.
"Wonderful! And you're shopping for...?" She looked between us.
"Me," I said.
"Perfect. What's your style? What makes you feel beautiful, honey?" The woman asked.
What makes me feel beautiful? I hadn't even thought that far into it.
"I... I like things that are comfortable. Soft. Not too tight."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Let me pull some options for you."
She disappeared into the back and returned with an armful of dresses. The options she came back with were already different. The fabrics were flowing and deeper in color. The styles that she'd chosen looked like they were made for actual human bodies instead of mannequins.
"Try these," she said softly. "And don't worry about what anyone else thinks. The right dress will make you feel like yourself. Just elevated."
I took the dresses from her and headed back to the fitting room. The very first one was a deep burgundy dress, off-the-shoulder with a skirt that flowed outward instead of clinging to my hips. The fabric was soft and felt like butter against my skin.
I faced myself in the mirror and actually loved what I saw staring back at me.
The bodice hugged my curves without squeezing. It actually fit my frame. The color made my skin glow, warm brown against deep red. Something about the richness of the burgundy felt right for the season too. Valentine's colors. Romantic without trying too hard.
You're going to look beautiful. Kael's words danced inside of my head.
"Let me see," my mother called from outside of the dressing room.
I stepped out and braced myself for criticism.
The second she saw me, my mother's face softened.
"Oh, Amara," she breathed. "You look beautiful."
The boutique owner appeared with a smile. "That color is stunning on you. Perfect for a Valentine's event."
I turned to look at myself in the three-way mirror. For the first time all afternoon, I didn't feel like I was trying to be someone else.
I felt like me, just in a fancy ball gown.
"This is the one," I said.
"Are you sure?" my mother asked. "Don't you want to try on the others?"
Biting my lip I looked down feeling confident. "I'm sure."
She nodded slowly, and for a moment, I thought I saw something like pride in her eyes.
"It really is perfect, sweetheart. That baker of yours won't be able to take his eyes off you."
I felt my cheeks heat. "Mom..."
But she was already heading to the counter to pay, a small smile on her face.
The boutique owner packed up the dress carefully while my mother paid. I tried not to look at the price tag. Tried not to feel guilty about how much she was spending.
"Thank you," I said as we left the store.
My mother squeezed my hand. "You're going to be the most beautiful girl there."
I doubted that but maybe I'd feel like I belonged.
Even if it was just for one night.
Later that evening, I curled up in my tiny apartment with a book and the blanket that smelled faintly of lavender detergent.
The radiator clanked softly and I could hear the neighbor's TV murmuring through the wall.
Outside my window, the February sky had gone a deep navy blue, and the streetlights cast soft halos against the patches of melting snow on the sidewalk below.
I tried to focus on the pages, but my mind kept drifting back to the burgundy dress hanging in my closet.
Even my mother's unexpected reaction to how I'd looked in that dress was on my mind.
And then, of course, my thoughts drifted to Kael at the market, his eyes warm as he told me I'd look beautiful.
God, you're a sap, I thought as a smile tugged on my lips. I pulled the blanket tighter and let myself imagine it.
I squeezed my eyes shut and saw myself stepping into the gala with my hair freshly done and the dress on my body. The crowd would part and Kael would be across the room and we'd lock eyes...
Stop it, I told myself. He's probably got plans with someone or something. He would've mentioned going.
Still, a small fragile fragment of hope lingered in my chest as I flipped the page of the book I was reading.
What if this time is different? the voice whispered. What if someone finally sees you?
I closed my eyes again, the book feeling slightly heavy in my hands, and let the thought settle over me like warm honey.
What if a man just like the man who made me honey-ember tarts every morning and told me I was everything would be there?