93

My door opened the moment I finished fastening my hair with a black clip. "Where do you think you're dressed like that? "Questioned my mother, blocking the hallway of the house with her small body.

I took a look at my short and loose black dress, and the high boots that wrapped around my knees. I wasn't as vulgar as the shock on his face showed, and I really didn't want to argue about my new way of dressing, so I took some jacket and hid the neckline between my no big breasts. My mother kept looking at me with an ugly face.

At that time, I used to believe that any type of clothing would look perfect on my skeletal teenage body. My family used to fool me with certain comments about how thin being was ideal to fit in elegant clothes, and I rarely doubted it.

In this way, even with too thin legs, long arms and visible bones, I felt like a Marilyn Monroe inside loose and fluttering clothes, but no one ever told me that my appearance came closer to an ironing board with ruffles thrown over