Working at the clothing store was a real challenge, much more difficult than I had imagined it would be. Stacy taught me the basics because, even though she was a girl, and perhaps people expected me to fit the stereotype of being a fashion enthusiast, the truth was that I couldn't distinguish between a blouse and a shirt, or a T-shirt, let alone figure out what a pleated skirt was. When I faced the different types of fabrics, it felt like the world was collapsing on me.
For me, there were only long-sleeved and short-sleeved T-shirts, the only fabric I knew was denim, and I could only differentiate between a skirt, pants, and a dress, nothing more. I felt like I was messing up regularly, and even though Stacy didn't say it, I could see her purse her lips and explain things to me again eve
