The Black Dress

I hate going shopping. Especially for clothes. Always have, and probably always will. It takes forever to find something that will actually fit.
I vividly remember shopping for my fifth grade promotion dress. My mom and I went to like five stores. A few dresses fit, but my mom didn’t like them; sometimes even I didn’t.
The last place we went was the kids section at Macy’s. I must’ve tried on like, I don’t know, thirty dresses. They all fit fine, except for one tiny problem; I could not get the stupid, unstretching straps on my shoulders, even in the biggest sizes. My wide shoulders, as usual were a curse.
Eventually there was only one dress left. A skinny, black dress with ruffles going down it and a sad looking rose on the shoulder, a funeral dress. And unluckiest of the unlucky, it fit. The only dress I didn’t like was the only dress that fit.
We ended up buying that dress because, like my closet of tight, ugly T-shirts, there wasn’t another that fit. I was upset because who in the world wants to go to a promotion, which is basically a graduation, in a black funeral dress.
Fortunately however, one of my friend’s mom saved me by taking me shopping at a mall by her house. For my promotion, I ended up wearing a kid dress that made me look two years younger, but it was comfortable and no more embarrassing than my friends’ dresses. Best of all it was blue, and certainly not black.





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