thirteen LeniA gust of wind pulls the fabric of my tad-too-short sundress off of my a*s, and I can only hope that the goods remain covered. I told Mimi that it wasn’t long enough, but she assured me that it was the perfect length. If I had known my hands would be completely occupied and unable to access the dress-over-my-a*s situation, I’d have insisted that Mimi make it longer.
I feel completely out of place as I make my way across the lawn toward the backyard of Emily and Westley’s home. First, I’m wearing pink and not just any pink; it’s obnoxious bubblegum pink. Mimi says it’s the perfect shade, but it reminds me of the gum that holds flavor for about two seconds but lets me blow huge bubbles.
The directions on the invitation were clear—wear pink if you think it’s going to be a girl,
