1 The overweight girl

"No ma'am… that's not quite… err.. right for you," the shop assistant told me, diplomatically.

I looked at myself in the trial room mirror. I looked hideous. Period.

The slinky white material of the dress embraced my curves lovingly, a bit too lovingly for my liking! There was a prominent bulge in my waist region, if you can call it that, my arms looked thick and well, my hips looked pretty …big. In one word, it was not for me, as the shop assistant, Christie, I read her name tag helpfully pointed out.

"Perhaps, you might want to take a look at our plus sized garments, ma'am? We have some beautiful designs there too," she offered with a tentative smile. She knew she was treading on delicate territory.

I looked towards where she was motioning.

The section was full of beautiful dresses alright. But it was the kind of thing you'd find your mid-aged aunt wearing. Oversized single pieces, long skirts, mostly in dark colours. And the reason was quite obvious - dark colors hide, while light colors highlight. All of them had very small patterns on them. Again, the reason was quite obvious - Big patterns typically make you look bigger, while small patterns can make you look smaller.

And then, I saw a small printout, that was displayed near the plus sized dresses. I read the fine print – it was for "real women".

Since when did "real women" start dressing dowdily? I wondered. Weren't real women supposed to be beautiful, curvaceous and pretty? Well, if that's how real women dressed, I didn't want to be a "real" woman.. thank you very much!

My eyes fell upon the beautiful white dress, in the mirror, which didn't look so beautiful on my oversized body. When you're a size 18, life is tough.

I sighed inwardly, slowly shook my head and shut the door behind me, to get out of the contraption and get back into my normal clothes. I emerged from the dressing room- Christie smiled at me as if to say it's alright- and walked out.

Once out in the busy Shanghai street, I felt like throwing out my wallet along with all its contents. I had been saving up for months to buy something special and when my eyes had alighted on the dress, displayed so proudly on the front window of the shop, three days ago, I hadn't been able to resist.

I had gone in to check the price tag, made sure it was available in my size and promised to come back again.

"Bloody, bloody stupid", I said aloud.

A passer- by looked at me and smirked. I resisted the urge to go up to him and slap him, to wipe that smirk off his face.

I should have known that a dress like that would bring all my flaws to the fore.

I hated shopping anyway because I could never fit into any of the pretty clothes or even if I did, it would look outrageous on me, then why did I have to go and try out the dress?

Hadn't I learnt my lesson in all these years of trying out pretty clothes and looking hideous in them? I was fat and I had to accept it. I had to accept the fact that baggy Jeans, shirts & t-shirts were my kind of thing. I was a proud tomboy. Pretty clothes were for skinny girls. Period.

Oh of course! there were kindly aunties who would tell me that I'm pretty and beautiful 'so much healthier than those undersized, starving girls, like their own daughters'! But I knew they were sniggering inside, proudly displaying their daughters in social gatherings and patronizing little, old me!

Who am I too judge? I am too busy to do that. I have a job interview. And people are mature enough to notice my skills.. and not my looks !!