“I don’t know if I can wear this gown, Jennifer,” I said as I studied my image in the full-length mirror.
I was wearing my mother’s ball gown, but I hadn’t realized that the Queen Anne neckline of the dress would show a hint of my cleavage.
“It looks fantastic on you, Miss,” Jennifer said. “The seamstress did a wonderful job tailoring it to your figure.”
“It looks terrific on you,” Diana said. “Why don’t you like it?”
I put my hand over my chest, covering the area at the top of my breasts. I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable wearing this one around people for a few years. It will be more suitable for me when I’m older.”
“You can hardly see anything,” Diana argued.
“It would still make me more nervous than I already am,” I told her. “I don’t like feeling like I’m on display at functions
