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| POV: ELARA WEASLEY
"NO!" A loud shriek is heard from Pansy, when she looks at herself in the mirror.
All of our heads snap to her direction, confusion spreading across our faces. But soon, we realize that the eyeliner on her left eye was almost perfect, until it got smudged at the wing.
A gasp also leaves all of our lips.
By now, we all know how much Pansy loves fashion and anything related towards makeup and dressing up. It's her dream to open up her one and only fashion chain along in the future. That's why I've noticed in these past couple of months— as soon as the tiniest detail will go wrong, Pansy will immediately start to freak out.
Trust me, it's not much of a pretty experience.
"Darling it'll be okay," Hermione walks towards her, trying to calm her nerves down as Pansy starts to panic, again.
Currently we all— Lavender, Hannah, me, Ginny, Pansy and 'Mione are in my bedroom— which by the way is a huge mess as we try to get ready and look our best for the ball.
Which started fifteen minutes ago.
And obviously, we are late.
Just now only, I've finished with all my makeup— obviously Pansy insisted on doing everyone's makeup here since to her it makes "fireworks" explode inside of her when she helps out someone with any sort of fashion.
Now, just the dress is left.
Taking the beautiful dress that's so gracefully hanging on the corner of my wardrobe, the smallest squeal leaves my lips when I realize how much my confidence will boost up wearing this dress.
Quickly, I start walking to the bathroom, not wanting to waste any more time since I'm already late enough. Admiring the dress, I finally start to undress myself— trying my best to not get my makeup smudged in the way when I take off my tank top.
As soon as I feel that the dress is perfectly fit on my body— I finally turn around, looking at the mirror to find how beautiful I look. I can proudly say that dress beautifully hugs all my curves from head to toe— my confidence only increasing by each passing second. My makeup fits perfectly with what I'm wearing, making my light brown eyes pop more— even though it's a silver dress.
Running my hands down the frame of my body— feeling all the curves throughout, along with little lines of bumps on my thigh that I spot which indicate my stretch marks. There used to be days I used to hate them and there were times that I used to lock myself up in my room and cry all day about not being in the "beauty standard".
All I would wear were jeans or leggings since wearing shorts or skirts made me feel so insecure about my body. Whenever I used to look at myself, tears instantly used to cover my eyes when my eyes landed on the stretch marks on my body.
