My Italian Makeover (REWRITING)

Two

She dragged me from the breakfast table, to the inside of the house and led me upstairs to my room that had just been transformed into a clothing store with all the clothes they moved from the living room.

"Okay, so we have Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, and a bunch more. Where do you want to start?"

"You do realize that almost every single word that just came out of your mouth I don't understand." I told her.

She sighed and shook her head.

"I told you... I don't know anything about fashion." I said to her.

It's not my fault my interests didn't come out like the rest of my family. It's kind of good being different than anyone else though. Being weird makes me stand out. But at the same time, I stand out like a sore thumb.

"I'm going to start a Fashion Academy just for people like you." She over exaggerated.

She walked out of the room and returned with a recorder in her hand.

I asked what's it for and she responded with, "You're going to take notes."

From there, she kept talking, but I only caught a little of what she said.

She was saying things like "Certain things got to go. The colors don't always have to match, but it does always have to look good."

I never knew how much one person could talk so much about clothes. She spent two whole hours talking about clothes and fashion and how you can mix things up without the colors matching. I can already tell this week is going to be hell. If she talks this much about clothes, jewelry and other stuff, I wonder how much she's going to say about that cake girls put on their faces called makeup.

"Do you have anything... not high end?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a puzzled look on her face.

"Not name brand. You know, something that doesn't cost a thousand dollars, or something."

Still with a puzzled look on her face, "I mean..."

It's like I was speaking a different language. I really wanted to laugh, but I held the hysterical laughter back.

"You know what, it's fine. I'm sorry I asked."

"No, no. It's okay. We'll start slow. Slow and steady wins the race right?"

She went to the jean rack and threw a few pairs on the bed.

"Yes, they're still designer, but not every thing designer is flashy. Some are just simple, better quality and last longer." She said.

Which makes sense because some of my jeans really aren't all that great, but who in the world wants to pay like $50 for a pair of jeans that probably wont fix next year? Not I.

"I get excited about stuff like this and I move a little fast, but I promise to not scare you anymore. Not everything has to be extravagant. You can throw on a nice long sleeve bodysuit with some high waisted jeans and pair it with heels, or ankle booties if you can't walk in heels." She said as she started to throw the items together.

"Okay. Okay, I see the vision. I like it."

She picked the items up and handed them to me, "Here, try it on."

I walked into the bathroom to try them on and surprisingly, they fit. The bodysuit hugged curves that I didn't even know I had and the jeans... well, accentuated something that wasn't even there two minutes ago.

When I walked into the room, Julia's jaw dropped. "You hate it. I look terrible, I'm going to take it off."

" NO! You look great. Now, the only thing you need to do is look more confident! Wear the clothes, don't let the clothes wear you."