so
boring. Probably because she rarely thought about her clothes, one
way or the other. She dressed for comfort and by habit. If she
found an outfit she liked that felt and looked good, she’d reach
for it in her closet again and again. But tonight she wanted
something different. Tonight was her date with Carlos, and none of
her regular clothes were right. She wanted something colorful,
flattering and just a touch daring. Something that gave her
wow-factor. Because Carlos deserved to dine with a woman who had at
least as much wow-factor as he did.
No, she wouldn’t think about that. She would
steer clear of thoughts about why he asked her out in the first
place, when he could be with any woman he wanted. And she would
definitely steer clear of picturing in her vivid imagination the
scores of fashion-model women he’d most likely dated in his past.
Picturing those thin, gorgeous, worldly women walking at Carlos’s
side would serve absolutely no purpose at all.
She sighed and looked back in her closet.
Time to call in reinforcements.
Monica sat in her living room, tapping her
foot and staring at the clock. Two hours till date time.
A minivan screeched to a halt in her driveway
and Monica couldn’t help her relieved smile. If anyone could help
her with her wardrobe shortcomings, it was Barbie. She, of the
weekly shopping expeditions. She, who could rattle off designer
names like Monica could recite the last few years’ Best Actor
Nominees.
The door flung open and Barbie steamrolled
in, carrying Mae, with Spencer hanging on to her free hand. When he
saw Monica, he skipped over and threw himself against her knees,
hugging tight.
“Spence, don’t knock your aunt over, honey,”
Barbie said as she set Mae on the floor and extracted her daughter
from a puffy lavender snowsuit.
Monica squatted and ruffled his hair with a
grin. “How’s it going, sport?”
A crease formed between Spencer’s eyebrows,
confused at Monica’s favorite greeting for him. “I’m not
baseball.”
Meanwhile, Monica caught a glimpse of her
sister’s back as it disappeared down the hallway and into her
bedroom. She pushed to her feet and followed Barbie. Unfortunately,
by the time she reached her bedroom, a quarter of the contents of
her closet had formed a pile on the carpet.
“Hey! Cut that out.” Monica dashed to the
pile and began retrieving her clothes.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll clean up
when we’re done. I just don’t see how you can get to your party
stuff when all your work stuff is up front.”
“Party stuff?” Monica said blankly.
“Yeah, you know – your New Year’s Eve and
evening wedding stuff.” More black slacks and button-up sweaters
hit the floor. “Where are they?”
Before Monica could muster up a response,
Barbie reached the back of the closet and turned, her hands up in a
confused gesture.
“I – I – don’t have any.” Monica sighed.
“None?” Her sister looked at her like she had
two heads.
Exasperated, Monica said, “Barbie, think
about it. When was the last time I went out for New Year’s Eve? The
last four years I’ve been babysitting.” Your kids. While you and
your husband went out for New Year’s Eve.
A crash came from the direction of her
kitchen. She looked around. “Spencer?”
Barbie shooed her away with one hand. “It’s a
good thing I brought a few key items of my own, then. You go see
what he’s doing, and I’ll work magic in here and put a killer
outfit together. Go on.”
Monica started to argue but another crash
sidetracked her and she ran down the hall without a backward
glance. She didn’t want to wear Barbie’s clothes. Her sister was
shorter and a little slimmer. Although they had shared clothes in
high school, and she could probably do it now, her sister’s style
was much more … flashy than hers.
She reached the kitchen and saw with relief
Spencer had located her Tupperware cabinet and had pulled out
several unbreakable containers. At
boring. Probably because she rarely thought about her clothes, one
way or the other. She dressed for comfort and by habit. If she
found an outfit she liked that felt and looked good, she’d reach
for it in her closet again and again. But tonight she wanted
something different. Tonight was her date with Carlos, and none of
her regular clothes were right. She wanted something colorful,
flattering and just a touch daring. Something that gave her
wow-factor. Because Carlos deserved to dine with a woman who had at
least as much wow-factor as he did.
No, she wouldn’t think about that. She would
steer clear of thoughts about why he asked her out in the first
place, when he could be with any woman he wanted. And she would
definitely steer clear of picturing in her vivid imagination the
scores of fashion-model women he’d most likely dated in his past.
Picturing those thin, gorgeous, worldly women walking at Carlos’s
side would serve absolutely no purpose at all.
She sighed and looked back in her closet.
Time to call in reinforcements.
Monica sat in her living room, tapping her
foot and staring at the clock. Two hours till date time.
A minivan screeched to a halt in her driveway
and Monica couldn’t help her relieved smile. If anyone could help
her with her wardrobe shortcomings, it was Barbie. She, of the
weekly shopping expeditions. She, who could rattle off designer
names like Monica could recite the last few years’ Best Actor
Nominees.
The door flung open and Barbie steamrolled
in, carrying Mae, with Spencer hanging on to her free hand. When he
saw Monica, he skipped over and threw himself against her knees,
hugging tight.
“Spence, don’t knock your aunt over, honey,”
Barbie said as she set Mae on the floor and extracted her daughter
from a puffy lavender snowsuit.
Monica squatted and ruffled his hair with a
grin. “How’s it going, sport?”
A crease formed between Spencer’s eyebrows,
confused at Monica’s favorite greeting for him. “I’m not
baseball.”
Meanwhile, Monica caught a glimpse of her
sister’s back as it disappeared down the hallway and into her
bedroom. She pushed to her feet and followed Barbie. Unfortunately,
by the time she reached her bedroom, a quarter of the contents of
her closet had formed a pile on the carpet.
“Hey! Cut that out.” Monica dashed to the
pile and began retrieving her clothes.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll clean up
when we’re done. I just don’t see how you can get to your party
stuff when all your work stuff is up front.”
“Party stuff?” Monica said blankly.
“Yeah, you know – your New Year’s Eve and
evening wedding stuff.” More black slacks and button-up sweaters
hit the floor. “Where are they?”
Before Monica could muster up a response,
Barbie reached the back of the closet and turned, her hands up in a
confused gesture.
“I – I – don’t have any.” Monica sighed.
“None?” Her sister looked at her like she had
two heads.
Exasperated, Monica said, “Barbie, think
about it. When was the last time I went out for New Year’s Eve? The
last four years I’ve been babysitting.” Your kids. While you and
your husband went out for New Year’s Eve.
A crash came from the direction of her
kitchen. She looked around. “Spencer?”
Barbie shooed her away with one hand. “It’s a
good thing I brought a few key items of my own, then. You go see
what he’s doing, and I’ll work magic in here and put a killer
outfit together. Go on.”
Monica started to argue but another crash
sidetracked her and she ran down the hall without a backward
glance. She didn’t want to wear Barbie’s clothes. Her sister was
shorter and a little slimmer. Although they had shared clothes in
high school, and she could probably do it now, her sister’s style
was much more … flashy than hers.
She reached the kitchen and saw with relief
Spencer had located her Tupperware cabinet and had pulled out
several unbreakable containers. At
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