A heap of fashion magazines on her nightstand and a purple and white dress, strapless and down to her knees, thrown messily on her emaciated, pale, but rather strong-looking frame, Melody Johnston, standing before a large mirror, scrutinising each angle of her body, realised it was not quite right, something was not correct. It’s not enough, she thought to herself, sliding the dress off her body and throwing it on her unmade bed, on top of the numerous other discarded outfits she had tried on. It seemed as though nothing she owned was right, everything had a flaw or two, all her clothes were either too loose or too tight, too colourful or too dark, too revealing or too conservative. What was she going to wear?
She glanced at her closet and realised there was nothing left, for she had tried everything on, and disliked it all; she would need a new outfit. She had never been a social butterfly, one of those girls who, caked in makeup, carrying purses and wearing high-heeled shoes, were worshipped by everyone at school. For the first time in her life, however, she had been invited to a party and, after years and years of rejection, nights of tear-stained cheeks and hugging her pillow, she felt as though it was time to make them all pay; she wanted to arrive at her first party dressed like a Countess, looking elegantly simple, not overdressed, not over-the-not, but not too conservative, either; she would have to find the perfect outfit, the right one.
She ran down a set of wooden stairs and walked into the kitchen, smelling a soft odour of sweet pastry slowly cooking, and seeing her aunt, Cheryl, standing before a flour-covered counter, preparing another pie.
‘‘Cheryl,’’ She said, ‘‘You need to take me to the mall. I need a new outfit for my party. It will be starting in about three hours.’’
‘‘I’m rather busy, Mel,’’ Cheryl replied, a rolling pin in her hand.
‘‘Please, Cheryl,’’ the young girl exclaimed.
No reply came, so she undid a button of her blouse, exposing her red brassiere slightly. She noticed Cheryl’s eyes against her chest, and knew she would bring her to the mall, but her aunt stayed silent, not mouthing a single word. Melody grabbed the right cup of her brassiere with her long fingers, pulled it down a bit, and exposed her breast completely; this time, Cheryl accepted and shortly after, they were at the mall, browsing through the many clothes hanging against the walls.
Melody tried many outfits on, tossing them all after; nothing was perfect. Suddenly, a white ruffled blouse caught her attention. She tried it on. It was perfect! Exactly what she was looking for! She now needed a pair of pants or a skirt, so she kept trying on various bottoms, finding them all mediocre and average, until she found the perfect high-waisted black pants, which looked perfect on her, making her body appear somewhat curvy and round; the way, she thought, a woman should be built. She ran out of the cabin and handed the clothes to Cheryl, asking for her to buy them. Her aunt looked at the price and said:
‘‘You should look for something a bit less expensive.’’
‘‘Aunt Cheryl, they are perfect. I need them. I beg of you.’’
Cheryl had always lacked human consideration, but realised she could get a lot out of Melody’s trouble, so she whispered something in her niece’s ear, something about when she would come back from the party, later that night, something which involved Melody getting in Cheryl’s bed. Melody felt a bit uncomfortable, but accepted, as she truly felt as thought these clothes could change her life, earning her more friends and perhaps even a reputation.
She was standing in front of Cara’s door. She was about to enter the party. Of course, having never been the outgoing type, she waited a few seconds before knocking, pulling a small mirror out of her handbag and staring at herself. She had applied a bit of red lipstick and her eyes, a blend of blue and green, were framed by a small amount of eyeliner. I look perfect, she thought to herself. She knocked. A young woman named Cara opened the door and greeted her, smiling in a way, Melody thought, that was quite inappropriate. As Melody walked into the living room, where most girls were wearing t-shirts and jeans, she felt inadequate and as though she could just die.
‘‘Oh, Cara,’’ A girl shouted. ‘‘Is that your mother? Is the party already over?’’
Everyone laughed. Melody turned around and ran out of the house, crying. She had nothing. She had no friends, she was an object of mockery, she was dressed like a middle-age woman, she would always be mocked after that night… She then thought about Cheryl, all washed and perfumed, laying in her bed, waiting for her. At least one person cares for me, Melody thought, walking home, and I shall make this night magical for her.
I can’t order off the Internet. And a full list of everything please, including amounts.:)
Just suggest ITEMS, or if there are any really nice things you can put a link and I’ll try to find something similar.