Hope's Point of View
"I am NOT wearing this." I was looking at myself in the full-view mirror that was fixed to my old bedroom door. The expression on my face was a picture of absolute horror.
The 'dress' that my father had apparently painstakingly selected was no more than a scrap of satin, scarlet red material. It was designed with the full intention of showing off the parts of the body that you shouldn't see as well as the parts of the body that you should. The top of the damn thing had a criss-cross design at the front which, not only, made it backless but exposed half an inch of both my boobs in the centre of it! From the waist down, it was skin tight and the length barely covered my backside. I looked an absolute joke. There was no way on earth anyone would take me seriously
