"Kit Reed - Like my dress" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Kit)

Like my dress
by Kit Reed
****
Oh God, to have style and money in those days, to take my place up there on the
stage with hot Stud Ridley, the magnetic emcee with the neon eyes, my love. Bliss to
be in the studio - but to be a contestant! Who wouldn’t kill for the thrill? Imagine
starring in the global sensation, the absolutely only TV show that keeps dogs away
from their dinners, kids home from the malls, and lovers out of each other’s arms,
everybody too mesmerized to turn it off, and, yes! - all eyes on me in my most
death-dealing costume; now that is power.
Imagine being the all-time winner in the grand playoffs at the end of the
season, taking the trophy in front of the biggest TV audience in the history of
competition. Feel the drumroll, hear the shouts as Stud Ridley - Stud Ridley crowns
you all-time universal winner on LIKE MY DRESS.
Listen. I almost made it. And if the show went down in flames right afterward,
so be it. Fine.
With a loss like that, the skies should weep.
There was another winner that season, but there was never another season. All
the heart and fire had gone out. Am I sorry? There’s a hole in my heart that pills
won’t reach. Glad? Okay. Yes.
But if you want to blame somebody, blame Lola. Lola Garner did it, my
putative best friend. Lola, that I trusted; we used to wear each other’s clothes! It was
Lola with the baby-blue sweetie-pie stare and her raunchy little ass and all her
treachery that brought me down. And I thought she was my friend.
If you want to know the truth, I got into it because of her; I flew so high -
before I fell. But I am getting ahead of myself.
We worked in the same office, and I ran into her in Labels for Less one day at
lunch. She was trying on an orange sequined catsuit that made her ass look like a
pumpkin, going away. She was preening in front of the three-way mirror as if it
didn’t even show the back of her, and I had to intervene.
“Hi, you may not know me; my name is Gaby, from the office?”
Well, the smile she gave me was flattering, to say the least. “Everybody knows
who you are. You’re that terribly chic girl.”
“Oh, do you really think so?”
“This is such an honor. Everybody wants to look like you.” She twirled in the
jumpsuit. “What do you think?”
 I did it without even hurting her feelings. “I’ve seen you in better colors.”
“Oh, thank you.” She took my word for it.
By the time we left, I had talked her into a mauve number that was very
slenderizing and looked good with my gray suede boots, and she thought I was
God. We were bonded from then on.
Or she let me think we were. To think I trusted her! But that was before we
even dreamed of LIKE MY DRESS.
Now let me explain a few things to you about costume, so you can see what
made that show take off and fly. Now I’m not just talking about us women in the
work force, this holds for every guy I know; just look at the ads for man makeup
and the eye tucks for men and the hair plugs and the fluorescent shirts, the
ass-hugging trousers and natty ties and the two-toned shoes - you think that’s for
fun? It’s for survival. When all about you are losing theirs, at least you know you
look good. Shopping is nature’s way of telling you you’re not dead.