Corinne
By the time three o’clock rolled around on Saturday afternoon, I’d already tried on—and discarded—roughly eight dresses, seven skirts, and one ill-conceived romper that made me look like a plump toddler, only with big boobs.
Panic was setting in when there was a knock on the door. I answered it, my button-down shirt only half tucked into my poodle pajama bottoms while curlers pulled at my roots and made my eyes water.
“Hello?” I said without thinking, only to find the postal worker standing at my door, her nose wrinkled as she looked up at me.
“Package,” she said.
“Who for?” I asked. “I didn’t order anything.”
“Listen, lady, I just drop stuff off.” She thrust four boxes toward me, and I took them all before she unceremoniously bustled away.
Closing the door, I glanced down t
