GUYS IM SO SORRY I DIDNT UPDATE YESTERDAY BECAUSE I DIDNT HAVE MY LAPTOP BUT THIS UPDATE IS ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHAPTERS SO I HOPE THIS WILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!
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ENJOY
My hand injury was going to pose a potential problem for tonight’s festivities. I sat on the edge of the bathtub in our bathroom, staring at my unbandaged right hand. In terms of healing, it was maybe two weeks away from a full recovery. It was a pink shade, with slight inflammation swelling my extremities to an unsightly size. I groaned, thinking about how grotesque it would look besides whatever evening gown I was to wear tonight. There were three hours until the charity banquet and Lisa had run to pick up my dress from the boutique it had been purchased from. Apparently, the dress was a belated wedding gift from Mr. Smithberg, the host of the banquet, himself. I hadn’t seen it yet, but I wasn’t too worried. I was only worried about my swelled hand and the effects of leaving it unwrapped for a full evening. I prayed that it wouldn’t become infected once more, but the wound was freshly sealed and bleeding was no longer a concern.
A heard a faint rack at the bedroom door and, with a push of my left hand, hoisted myself from the bathtub and rounded out of the bathroom. Lisa was at the door, holding a long dress cover with the dress inside in her right hand.
“Miss,” She said, handing the hanger to me.
Accepting it, I gave her a thankful smile before closing the door behind her and bringing the dress to my bed. I laid it over the duvet and unzipped the cover in which it sat. It was a gorgeous champagne color, with a one-shoulder cross-over strap encrusted with jewel embellishment and a layered ruffle skirt design. It was an absolutely beautiful Jovani dress but my first reaction upon seeing the neckline was complete horror. The single shoulder strap hung quite low over the chest. This was obviously for a very busty woman but, unfortunately, I was a bra size far less impressive. Had Mr. Smithberg ever seen a photograph of me? You could tell how flat chested I was in virtually every photographic piece of evidence. Wearing this dress would make me look a bit trampy, I realized; I had to improvise.
I raced to my dresser, taking keen note of my left leg as I applied pressure to it. I fished through my undergarments, trying to find a bra that would, if successfully utilized, create the allusion of a fuller bust. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I pulled out the perfect offender; it was the Dream Miracle push-up bra by Victoria’s Secret. I had purchased it in America last year when I finished up university. It claimed to give you two full cup sizes higher than your previous bra size and it rightfully did what it was marketed to do. I squeezed the heavy padding and raised an eyebrow; impressive.
I slipped into the bra and dress, sliding the strap over my shoulder and adjusting where appropriate in the mirror. I cocked my head slightly to the left as I stared at my reflection. I spent the next half hour getting my makeup perfect, applying foundation, eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, and lipstick. The final product was what I was expecting, nothing too heavy but enough to catch the eye.
I heard another knock at the door and, upon opening it, was greeted by a hair stylist. She was extremely peppy, bouncing around the room and gushing about how “absolutely beautiful” I looked. I politely thanked her, but began counting the minutes until she would depart. Her dramatic excitement was making me feel sick. She spent about an hour curling, twisting, and primping my hair into a tight updo, possibly more elegant than my wedding updo. After she sprayed an abundant amount of hairspray at my bun, she sashayed out of the room as happily as she had entered. With about half an hour left until the banquet started, I was finished getting ready.
