Dressing Room

I've always been fascinated with dressing rooms. I like trying on clothes and discovering myself through fashion. Fashion allows me to transform into anyone I want to be. I remember when I was younger I would go to resale shops and grab maybe a hundred things to try on. These dressing rooms were magical rooms surrounded in mirrors where I was able to see a myself a hundred times. Trying on clothes is a crucial experience in a girl's life. It allows her to self define who she wants to be. I still do it every once and a while and pretend to be who I want to be. I was shopping the other day and just needed a pick me up. I went through the clothes and couldn't find anything I particularly wanted to try on. So I went to the other side where the underwear and bras were on display. The typical womanly articles. I see this girl who is shopping with her mom and best friend. I hide between the racks pretending not to be seen. The girl is tom boyish and maybe a size 5. She is looking at pantyhose and Spanx and is gossiping about some other friend. Her friend is also tom boyish and her mom is giving them space. The girl seems out of place shopping here in this section. I feel like I'm being nosy and decide to mind my own business, so I grab a handful of bras and sneak into the dressing room unnoticed. The dressing room became like a therapy session. All of my worries were being tossed aside like the hangers of the bras. I stood and looked at my body and who I was as a woman. I found contentment. I've always been thin enough. Pretty enough. Confident enough - to continue onward. I hear the dressing room door beside me open and shut. It's the girl. She lets out a big sigh and her pain and insecurities transfer over to me. Oh how I've been there. Her mom can be heard shouting outside the door to her inside saying she has bras for her to try on. She confides in her mom that she looks like a boy. She curses loudly and begins to rehash the story about how her hairdresser messed up her hair and was forced to give her a boyish style. Her mom sympathetically agrees with the girl's anger and insists that she try on the bras. The girl curses again and begins to yell because her mom grabbed the smallest size available. She didn't want to be the smallest size available. She wanted to be womanly. She insisted that she wore a "D size" which simply wasn't the case, but she's allowed to pretend to be who ever she wants to be in the dressing room. Her mom laughed and said that was simply impossible. Although I agreed with the mom, I thought it would be important for the girl to figure this out on her own. A "D size" doesn't make her any more of a woman than she already is, I knew this. But did she? She soon sighed again, to her disappointment she found this out. I tried using my telekinesis to tell her that it will be okay and that she was beautiful just as she was. I gathered all of my belongings and we were both out of the dressing rooms at the same time I smiled at her to signal that I knew how she felt and that I sympathized. I walked away with hope in my heart that I made her day better.     

God Bless,
Jenny J