Karma wears stilettos (ON HOLD)

Chapter Six: Aftershave and glory

"Why did I let you talk me into this again?" I groaned, modeling the eighth dress this morning for Charlotte.

"Because, without you looking bomb, I can't put my genius plan into action," she said, handing me another dress. "Try." She commanded.

I groaned, snatching the dress from her and storming off to the bathroom. I had no idea what she was planning, and truth be told, I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I slipped on the dress and stepped out of the bathroom, not bothering to look at myself, Charlotte probably wouldn't like it anyway, and I'd end up changing for millionth time.

"Well?" I asked, hands on my hips as I entered the room. Charlotte looked up from her magazine, gave me a once over and frowned, "No," she sighed, "You look like you have no boobs," she deadpanned, tossing me another dress.

I growled, "That's because I don't!"

"Hey hey, don't get mad at me, blame your mom for not giving you the genes, to have boobs."

I raised an eyebrow, "You've seen my mom, right?" I smirked, "She does have the genes, she just gave most of them to my brother."

She laughed, "it's sad how true that is."

I nodded, hidding a smile as I took the other dress from her and headed to bathroom. I quickly slipped it on and walked out again, my hands stretched out gesturing for her to pass me another dress.

"Perfect!" She said suddenly.

I blinked. "Wha-"

"Thats it." She beamed, slipping off the bed, onto the the floor, where a million shoe boxes were opened, displaying all the shoes I never wore.

"This?" I asked, looking down at my clothes, which were a light turquoise blue.

"Yes. That. Do you know how pretty you look?"

"No....?" I said slowly, walking towards the mirror.

I did look a little different, more... feminine. (All credits to the dress for achieving the impossible.) It was a pretty pale turquoise blue high-low summer dress with a pretty faded floral pattern. I smiled at Charlotte's amazing fashion skills and sauntered back to my room.

"These." Charlotte said, flinging a pair of shoes into my arms as soon as I entered.

I looked down at them, "These?!"

"Yes, those. I have been speaking in English, haven't I?"

"I can't wear these?!" I shrieked.

"Why not?"

"Uh, because of the amount of surgery my feet will need after?"

"Well, you're not wearing anything else." She said, giving me the scariest glare I had ever seen. And I mean scary, like the Darth Vader death grip plus the glare your mom gives you after you don't answer 20 of her calls, times twenty.

"But-"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Dad," I yelled, "Could you please schedule an appointment with your podiatrist, tomorrow?"

***

Don't fall.

Do not fall.

Don't you dare fall, Hayden Elizabeth Richards.

I wobbled uncontrollably in my heels. The soft grass field beneath me did not help me in any way either and I found myself leaning on chairs, tables and the occasionally hugging the goddamn trees, chanting 'save the trees', every time someone passed by.