Dressing rooms are terrifying, almost medical like.
The harsh lights, that aren't quite bright enough but too bright at the same time, beat down on you. Shadows are cast all over your body at weird angles and generic retail store music blares and echoes in the small stall.
You're alone in there with all of your flaws, glaringly obvious in the mirror in front of you.
Too much stomach, too much arm, too much hip.
You're so self conscious and frustrated because those incredibly cute jeans don't fit.
Your face is red from struggling into that blouse that won't go over your chest.
Your mother is outside asking, "How is it going in there? Come out and show me!"
You tell her you don't like the way it looks but you, when in actuality none of the clothes you've chosen fit you. You feel like nothing looks good on you.
But it doesn't matter because you're gorgeous and amazing and clothes don't define you.
So what that blouse doesn't go over your chest and those cute jeans don't fit? There are other clothes and other stores.
Dressing rooms are scary, they put your flaws on display for you to see, but sometimes you love those flaws, and sometimes you don't. It's okay because you are beautiful. Reader you are beautiful.