Dani
It’s taken me two days to pick out an outfit for my date with Greg today, and I’m still deciding. Paige is over helping me find something that won’t make me look like a fat whale. The curse of having curves.
“Dani, you look fine.” She might say that, but I don’t feel comfortable in the black pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse she’s got me in. I’m going on a date, not an interview.
“Why can’t I just wear jeans?”
“They’re too informal for a date.”
“We’re going walking, Paige, not to a fancy restaurant.” I don’t do restaurants for dates. Too clichéd for my taste. I think jeans are appropriate for walking. Or maybe cutoffs; it’s hot out, and jeans might chafe in this heat.
I pull on a pair of jean shorts that sit above my knees, a pair of torn jeans, fashionable. I like them. Paige
