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“What about layers?”
I stand on the heart-shaped rug outside the fitting rooms and let them spiral around me, holding things up, judging, and then flinging them onto a yes or no pile.
The whole thing is like they’re the hurricane and I’m the eye.
“Ooh, I like these.” Ruby holds up something black and silky on a two-piece hanger: a sleek, scallop-edged bra and matching underwear. Matching thong. “You’re, what, a 30C? 32?”
I bite back a laugh. “What? No. I’m, like, a 36A.” It’s been a minute since I’ve worn anything but a sports bra, granted.
Ruby gives me a skeptical look. Or gives my boobs a skeptical look, really. “No way.”
“Most women are wearing the wrong bra size,” Emerald chimes in. “You probably need a smaller band and bigger cup than you think you do. Trust.” She taps her temple. “We know.”
“Oh.” My face flames as I look at the hanger again. “Uh, thanks. But…I’m good,” I insist, not least because I’m doing the mental math and I’m not sure how I’m going to squeeze this all onto my debit card balance. “I don’t need…underwear.”
From the armchair, Treasure looks up from her phone and chuckles. “You are starting completely from scratch, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But—”
“Then you do. And relax, because I’m buying.” She raises her voice a little. “Can we get her trying some things on, please?”
“Yes, Treasure.”
Sapphire pushes me gently toward a fitting stall while Emerald and Ruby follow with a few hangers each.
“So we want…sexy but not quite professional casino girlfriend,” Ruby says. “Give these a try.”
The first few options are short—too short.
“I don’t think I can wear this,” I say from the fitting room, pulling the squeaky pleather skirt of a deep red halter dress in a desperate attempt to get it all the way over the front of my hips. “It’s too short.”
“Please. I’m sure you can,” comes Sapphire’s voice.
“Just be confident!” adds Emerald—or maybe Ruby.
I grimace and give the material another yank. Nothing doing. There’s no more give and I still have another few inches of ass to cover.
“C’mon, I’m sure it looks—”
“No”—I push open the fitting room door and march out—“I’m serious.”
The Mermaids, seated on various poufs and settees, tip their heads at me.
“Oh,” Emerald says at last. “Yeah.”
Sapphire nods. “Long torso.”
“Long everything.” Treasure looks up from her phone and frowns. “You get that from the petites or something?”
“Yeah,” Emerald says. “Petites is like, club stuff, I thought? Because, you know, it’s little.” She pinches her thumb and forefinger together in the air.
“Bless your heart,” Sapphire murmurs, already getting up to revisit the racks. “Petites is for short girls. Tink needs, like, the opposite of that.”
“Not to mention new underwear,” Ruby murmurs, glancing at the white edge of my Valu-Mart panties.
The next few options are better. Or they fit better, at least. Sapphire scares up some better options, and when I emerge in the first—a one-shoulder dress in a kind of tangeriney stretch velvet—I’m shocked that it covers my boobs and butt at the same time.
“Yes,” Ruby says emphatically. “Better.”
