Sixteen the Hard Way -16.1- Words (Patreon)

We entered Nordstroms by the wide doors on the aisle between the Women’s section and the Misses’. Wide counters for perfumes, cosmetics and jewelry filled the center of the aisle. It was nothing less than a shopping Mecca of femininity.

I must have groaned because Mom told me, “No sound effects.” I settled for making a face and Donna laughed.

“What do you need most, honey?” Mom asked, looking around.

“A smoke grenade?” I suggested, but she ignored that.

“You do need something to wear to church tomorrow,” she insisted.

“I’ve got an idea,” Donna put in, trying to steer me into the Misses section by tugging on my arm.

“Not a dress,” I objected.

“Okay,” she agreed, making me instantly suspicious. “I saw something over here that might be more to your liking.”

“Huh?” I was distracted by the colors and sheer feminine vibes of all the clothes. “What’s the difference between Misses’ and Women’s?” I asked.

Mom had followed us and spoke up. “Women’s are sized differently, more room for hips, and the styles are different.”

“Yeah,” Donna agreed. “Misses are intended for younger, more fashionable women.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mom mused. “But there are also, Juniors, Petites, and Plus sizes.”

“And Girl’s sizes and Half sizes. But none of those are appropriate for you, Joni.”

“Then why make my head hurt telling me about them! You’re saying there are, like, eight different kinds of sizes for w-women?” I frowned. “Help!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Donna assured me. “We’ll help you find something that fits.”

“I’m afraid…” I began, but they both ignored me. Donna made a beeline toward her destination, towing me behind her while Mom made a move on something that had caught her eye on another aisle. A glance in that direction looked alarmingly frilly.

But Donna had arrived. “Here you go; you’re lucky they have it in blue,” she said pushing a garment hanger into my hands. “A jumper skort in a dressy but casual style.”

I handled it like I would a snake of unknown origin. “A what?” I asked.

Donna explained. “A jumper is an all-in-one that includes a top and a bottom in one piece, and a skort is a pair of shorts that are loose enough to resemble a skirt.”

“You’re just making up words now,” I accused.

“No, I’m…” She held the disputed piece of clothing up to her own body. “See? The top is styled like a shirt, and the bottom reaches almost to the knees but is two separate legs.”

“It looks like a skirt,” I complained.

“But it isn’t; it’s a skort. A jumper skort since it includes a top.” She pushed one of the short sleeves into my hand. “Feel,” she commanded. “It’s made of really soft cotton that’s just a little bit stretchy.” She nodded forcefully. “For your top bits. And since it has a shirt front, you can decide for yourself how many buttons to leave undone!”

“H-how?” I began. “I can’t see how you would even get it on!”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Donna. “I’ll show you in the dressing room.” She began tugging on my arm again.

At that moment, Mom showed up holding what was quite obviously a dress with lace at top and bottom. “Oh, Joni! You just have to try this on. It would look so darling on you!”

At least it wasn’t pink. Maybe choosing to go with red hair had some unexpected benefits, since even I knew that redheads don’t wear pink!

But now they were both pushing me toward the dressing room. I looked around for a shop clerk to appeal to for help, but there was no salesperson in sight. “I’m doomed,” I whispered.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” Mom snorted. “It’s not going to kill you to try on clothes.”

“It will if I stop breathing from fright!”