20  barbie goes to the boutique

“What do you think about this one, Lena?”

I glance up from the magazine I have sprawled out on my lap. I cock my head to the side and focus my eyes on the thirteen year old fashionista ahead of me.

“It’s alright,” I say truthfully. “It’s a bit…”

“Boring?” Abigail interrupts me with. She runs her hands down the bright pink skirt of the dress. She eyes the glittery top half of the gown before saying, “Yeah. I think so too.”

Well… that’s not what I was thinking.

I was thinking she looks like a teenaged flamingo.

I sigh, resuming my reading.

“This isn’t the one?” The nice young employee asks. She’s standing by our stack of already tried on dresses, probably thinking about early retirement.

“No… not this one,” Abigail says with a sigh. She steps down from the podium in front of the mirror and walks over to me on the couch. I raise a brow. “Lena, you haven’t been much of a help with all this,” she says with a smile.

“I didn’t volunteer as help,” I argue. “I volunteered as a chaperone.”

“Oh come on. There has to be a dress in here,” Abigail pauses to gesture around the giant boutique, “That you think is pretty.”

I groan, “Okay. I’ll pick out one that I like.”

I pick my sad self up from that couch tiredly. I rub my face with the backs of my hands then wander towards the first rack of sparkles that I see. I glance at Abigail, who is presently watching me like a mad scientist waits for his lab rat to explode with dynamite.

I gulp.

I play with the expensive fabric of the dresses on hangers. I catch a glimpse at a few of the price tags and thank goodness Mr. Gallows sent us here with a butt load of bills.

“Why is everything so flashy?” I ask to no one in particular. “No offense,” I say quickly to the young store lady. She shakes her head like she agrees.

Abigail goes to the other side of the rack to look for herself. I peak past a pair of glittery five inch heels to see her blonde head and blue eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with flashy,” she defends.

“I didn’t say that,” I argue.

Abigail wrestles with pulling a hanger from the rack before holding it up for me to see. “What about this one?” She asks.

I bite the inside of my cheek. That is the exact opposite of what her father told me to avoid: strapless and very VERY short.

“It’s not great,” I say. “I like this one more.” I show her the blue and black piece I just found.

Abigail wrinkles her button nose and turns her face away.

Jeesh, I didn’t think my taste was THAT bad.

“It needs more… WOW,” Abigail says with a wave of her hands.

I say, “I get a little too much wow from that one when you raise your arms like that.”

Abigail laughs and holds up the top of the ugly pink thing. “I’ll go take this off. Bring me the next one?”

I wave her to the dressing stalls.

I finger through the much too large selection and rock back and forth to the song on the radio. I can’t recall what it’s called… Lego? Legos? AHA! That’s it- LEGO HOUSE.

I could totally run my own pop station if I wanted.

I tap my boot against the ground and hum along to the words I’m pretending I know. I sigh at the sight of yet another girly ball gown. How am I supposed to find something suited for tiny little Abigail in this fancy place?

*GASP.

“ABIGAIL!” I shout. “ABBY!” I shout yet again. I’m being obnoxiously loud and I keep getting glares from little old ladies.

I ignore all of them. I take up the dress in my arms and run to the stalls.

I punch the wooden door of Abby’s dressing booth with both fists. “Open the doooor!” I shout whisper.

The door next to the one I’m abusing flies inward. Abby is staring at me from THAT stall. Not the one I’m pounding on.

“Oh… Sorry…” I say to whosever feet those are that are trembling behind the door. With a bit of awkward running through my veins I push Abby back into her stall, taking me and the dress with her.

“What is your problem?” Abigail is trying not to laugh.

“This dress!” I say with a smile. “Wait, not this dress. That’s not my problem I don’t have a problem. What I mean is that this dress is a good thing not a bad thing because I’ve found something un-slutty and totally you for that stupid party on Friday-”

Abigail starts to drown my rambling out. She takes the wadded up fabric from my arms and snaps it out in front of her. She holds the sparky thing to her body, admiring herself in the mirror. It’s the cutest little thing with a black belt and netting that runs from the torso to the neck like a tank top. I think it’s absolutely charming.

“Well?” I ask. “Am I right or am I right?”

Abigail takes a moment to think. Her porcelain skin wrinkles around her eyes as she smiles and says, “Yeah… for one time you might be right.”

I stand there with a grin on my face.

“Get out so I can try it on,” Abigail tells me.

I blink. “You’re kidding?” I sigh when she doesn’t say so. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go outside and wait to see it on you… even though I’ve seen you in much worse states than in your underclothes.” I excuse myself back to my little red couch. I cross my legs and pull them close to my chest as I wait impatiently for her to get her little bum out in front of this giant pedestal mirror.

I notice that the brunette sales lady is staring at me.

“I hope this is the one,” I say.

“Me too,” the lady says back. “Maybe 57 is our lucky number today.”

“Fifty seven dresses?” I gawk. “It feels like she’s tried on three times that.”

Suddenly Abby is flying into the room like a firecracker. She parades her way to the mirror, practically floating up to the pedestal. I gloat with a grin as she tells the lady that this indeed is the dress of her dreams.

“Well,” I announce as I stand. “Let’s get outta here before Friday’s come and gone.”

Abigail blinks. “No- we still have to find your dress.”

I shake my head around like a deranged baboon high on crack. “No, no, no. I barely agreed to come to that stupid shindig. I am not spending any of my hard earned pretty pennies on a glamorized Barbie gown I’ll be forced to wear for about three hours. No offense lady,” I say.

The brunette shakes her head.

“We got you a dress,” I point to the thing Abigail is wearing. “And that was the mission. Now the mission is complete. Now we can leave.”

Abigail gives me the most pathetic puppy face.

I roll my grey eyes so far back into my head I can practically see my brain.

“Nope. Nope. Nope. Come on girl, let’s go home before I get my first grey hair.”

“First? I don’t think so,” Abigail says. She hops down from her pedestal with an evil smirk on her lips.

I pretend to be absolutely heartbroken by her comment, “OUCH.”

Abigail laughs and calls out behind her to me, “I won’t be long- we still have to go and get our hair done!”

I grumble.

But little do I know: today isn’t half as bad as the rest of my week’s going to be… specifically Freaky Friday.

Oh joy!!