it is spring. show some leg.
“Would you be interested?”
« perhaps. »
“I know I’m asking a lot of you. I can’t offer you a long-term commitment - not even one that will last you through the summer. I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I see our relationship as being intense, but in the end, only temporary. In a few months, I’ll have to move on.”
« it would be foolish to hope for more. at least you are being honest. »
“Shall we see if we fit?”
« it wouldn’t hurt. »
Slatted doors, unlockable locks, and a moment of truth. Did it? Would it? —ahh, yes. Easily, even. I turned around and faced myself in the mirror - me, in a Little Black Dress.
« i think i should come home with you, » it whispered in a seductive little voice for my ears only.
“I think you should, too. I have tickets to a jazz concert on Friday, and the only two dresses I have that fit right now are clearly winter dresses.”
« it is spring. show some leg. »
“You realize I haven’t been able to walk into a petites section of a store to buy a dress in well over a decade, right?”
« nevertheless, we fit. »
* * * * *
For normal-sized women, shopping for a dress is a pleasurable courtship dance, conducted in the space of an afternoon. Fall into the uncharted hinterlands of Plus Sizes? Good luck - if you want something even remotely tasteful or well-made, prepare to spend a great deal of time in research and fruitless try-ons.
Total time spent shopping for, trying on, and paying for the dress?
Ten minutes.
I don’t even mind that it seems to be sentient. Hopefully it likes jazz.
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