Page 13 of Dear Pink

“Hannah?” Tina stands before me, stacks of clothing piled past her head. “Hannah?” She peers around the stack. “You zoned out for a bit. Can I get you a drink? A glass of wine? Water?”

“Wine?” I wonder if I can afford a store with alcoholic beverages.

“We had a trunk show last night, so there’s Chardonnay left. We wouldn’t normally offer wine before 5 p.m., but why let it go to waste?” She winks at me as if we’re sneaky teenagers.

“Water’s fine, please.” Water won’t lead to bad clothing decisions.

She places the piles of clothes in the dressing room. “I’ll bring a bottle of water in a few.”

Closing the door behind her, I grab one of the sales tags. “Thank all happy tacos,” I say to the pair of wide-legged palm leaf print pants. This is affordable.

“Excuse me?” Tina says on the other side of the door. “Do you need anything else?”

“Oh no, just talking to myself.”

“How do the clothes fit? Did I select the proper sizes?”

“Looks good,” I lie, afraid to model the outfits for her.

“Great. I’ll be back with your water.”

“Uh, wait. Make it wine instead.” Liquid courage is a prerequisite for this drastic metamorphosis.

Tina laughs. “Wine is more fun.”

Libby’s voice chimes in.Suck down the cheap Chardonnay and try on some cool clothes. Let’s do this, Hannah.

I flip through the stack and dig out a pink floral jumpsuit. It’s adorable. The tag reads, “Repurposed vintage sofa fabric.” I squeal with delight. One summer, Libby and I made ponchos out of Goodwill curtains. They were a huge hit at school. We sold them faster than we could make them with my mom’s old Singer sewing machine. Gretchen picked the perfect store.

Throwing off my clothes, I try on the jumpsuit. I flinch when Tina says through the door, “I’m coming in with your wine.”

She turns the knob, and it’s too late to cover myself. I’m standing in the middle of the room in blue cotton panties hiked up to my belly button. The waist has elastic missing, and I’ve paired them with my favorite faded gray sports bra. Super unsexy. Hello, uni-boob and granny panties.

“Oh, my.” She puts the white wine on a small side table. “This is worse than I thought.” Our eyes meet in the mirror. “Not dating much, huh?”

I flush and the heat rushes down my neck.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find some lace undergarments. Are you a C cup?”

I nod, and she runs out of the room. I gulp the glass of low-budget liquid strength and choke. Worst taste ever. I throw on the next item in the stack, a sexy little black halter dress with pink trim at the hem.

“I love this dress on you,” Tina says, throwing open the door without knocking.

I hand her my empty wine glass. “May I have a refill?”

“Sure.” She takes my glass and leaves a small bundle of lace and silk. “Try these. The lingerie isn’t recycled, but it's from Cosabella. Their company uses sustainable fabrics and ethical production practices. We love the company.” She closes the door and scurries off again.

When she returns, I’m in a fitted pale pink lace bra and matching panties. She hands me another glass of wine. This time it’s full to the brim. “It’s time to change your dating status.”

I say nothing and sip the new glass of wine. I’ve gotten comfortable being invisible, single, and most definitely dateless. I mean, the last time I talked to a hot guy, he didn’t even notice me in the elevator, and I told him bears have balls.

After another copious glass of wine, which isn’t as tart as before, I adopt an open-door policy in the dressing room. I’m officially tipsy, and I’ve tried on a million skirts and dresses.

“The halter top flatters your figure,” Tina says, bursting in again.

I spin around, watching the skirt swish around me in the mirror. “I agree.” I point to the bench in the corner. “This is the yes pile.”

“I have one more blouse to show you,” she says. “It’ll pair well with the kelly green pleated skirt. Let me go get it.”

---