Member-only story
Loving Yourself
It’s so much harder than it looks.
The eyes tell you something right off the bat. The woman holds up the dress on the hanger like it’s an alien thing, something that could never encase and encompass her, putting the fabric up to her body and frowning at some way the color doesn’t highlight her features. She puts the dress back on the rack, her lips pinched like something sour has crossed her taste buds. You hesitate, edging into her space, just the sales clerk who makes a little on commission at this small boutique.
She notices you, and the sour look grows more pronounced. “I was just browsing,” she says. You could easily back away, go back to your safe space behind the register, but you look into those tired blue eyes and see something oddly familiar.
You shift slightly and take another dress off a nearby rack. You hold it up, all emerald green fabric cinched at the waist, and you hope your smile looks convincing. “This style just came in,” you say. But you make sure that your words don’t slip and slide with the goo of a salesperson. You’re talking woman to woman here — especially since this customer obviously finds something lacking in the store’s offerings. “I think the color would go great with your complexion.”
A spark of good humor comes to the woman’s face. “I’m sorry,” she says. “But honestly? I think I’ve…
