Love Me Love Me (English)

35

June

"Mom, quit taking my mascara!"

"What else should I take? You've only got this!"

I sighed. Her coming in and out was making me fly off the handle. Now I couldn't stand the clacking of her heels on the floor.

"Look, I'm happy that you're ready for prom. But heads up, I'm wearing jeans."

"Come on, June, you'll make me look bad!"

I stared at her, perplexed. "Huh?"

"You'll make me look like I'm trying too hard."

I paused to admire the black sheath dress that showcased her lean, slender figure.

"I will?" I exclaimed untactfully.

She looked at me unsatisfied. It was time to backtrack and try again.

"I mean, you look great. You look ten years younger." I said it because I meant it. Certainly not to get anything in return because the only thing I wanted was to get out of this damn dinner, and that wasn't happening.

"Are you sure? I don't look like I'm trying too hard to impress him?" You could tell that she wasn't used to dating.

"Why? Don't you want to impress him?"

"I never go out! Let me feel hot for once, June!" I covered my ears and wrinkled my nose into a grimace.

"Why do you have to say it like that? Ew." Her eyes went wide.

"Isn't that what they say?"

"Yeah, but they don't say that about moms!" I exclaimed, making her laugh.

"You're so grown up, June. Can you at least put this on?" she suggested, coming back to my room with one of her dresses.

"Since when do you let me borrow your clothes?" I was really skeptical now.

"Since you've grown up and they look better on you than me."

I grumbled, and without being too difficult, I tried on a blue velvet dress that looked like something from the '90s that Jennifer Aniston would have worn on the red carpet.

It fell right below my knees and wrapped around my curves without squeezing them too much.

"What do you say?" she asked hopefully.

"Eh, it's too dressy."

It was actually made for someone who was tall and slender like her. It didn't do anything for my wide hips and rounded belly.

"You look great, June."

"It's a bit tight on me. If I sit down I'll pop a stitch."

"What are you talking about? You look gorgeous," she insisted, bringing me to the mirror.

I kept my head down as a wave of blond hair covered my face. My mom gathered it on my shoulders.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Why should I?"

"June, look in the mirror. You look gorgeous, how could you not like it?"

"Uh, I don't know."

I would've had a laundry list of objective reasons. My thighs were so soft that they rubbed against each other, same with my arms. Not to mention my round face, the rolls on my stomach, and the stretch marks on my legs.

But my mom didn't seem to notice any of that. She studied me with dreamy eyes.

"It doesn't fit me, Mom."