The Great Hendowski

I ended up spending a good deal of time in front of the mirror, changing quickly through different clothes, groaning when things came out clumpy and unflattering. I was never a confident girl through style, even thinking my waitress uniform was a bit over the top (short shorts and a tight t-shirt). It wasn't that revealing, but no one ever taught me what was too much, and what wasn't. Thanks to the absence of my oldest sister, and my mother who mentally checked out when I hit teenager.
I stared in awe at my final outfit, pulling the bottom of the sweater past the top of my jeans. It was an old Christmas sweater I pulled out of a closet in my bedroom. It smelled heavily of moth balls, and made me gag. The colors of the yarn bundled together a picture of a buck and his son. Their faces distorted from the lack of talent it took to create such a masterpiece, but I could clearly make out the antlers on the older deer. White yarn created the falling snow around them, and in a way, it was a nice design. Thoughtful. Selfless.
I texted Alice, asking if it was okay to wear a Christmas sweater out with a group of people.
"Depends, I guess. Where are you going?"
"I don't know. It's with that band though."
"You're going to wear a Christmas sweater around grown men? Are you kidding?"
I snorted at her response, texting with one hand and shrugging out of the fabric with the other. Bad idea. Expected comic relief, failed.
"It was just something I found. I don't know what to wear to casual public outings!"
"You don't wear those sweaters to these kinds of public outings, dear. I haven't worn a Christmas sweater since '86, and you will never see me in one."
I laughed the second I read her response, picturing my old friend in her worst, along with the curled bangs and teased up-do. But Alice had a pleasant face, and from what I could see, she aged well. I doubted her ability to look as bad as the rest of us did in holiday knits.
She sent a few more texts, offering advice, like more black than bright, look for sleek, something that shows off the curves of your figure.
But I wasn't doing this to go home with somebody. I wasn't going out with these guys to impress, or attract attention. She was receiving the wrong idea, and I was sure if I was going to follow her tips, I'd end up in the back of someone's basement.
"Oh, fuck," I hastily grabbed the sweater off of the floor, stripping myself, once again, and pulled the thing over my head. This time, I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw.
It was a twenty five year old child. Maybe I was trying to scare them off, or have them think I was a bit odd. Either way, I had a purpose for this sweater, and it had a purpose for me. It would make something, or break something, and I was curious to find out.

Peachy nuzzled my chin as I waited for my ride, legs stretched out to the coffee table. I chose the only black and white kitten, who's coat resembled the checkered flag ice cream. Chocolate and vanilla patches all over his fuzzy, little body. The rest went to the Humane Society, a place where they would all be in good hands. He mew'd, and I felt my phone buzz from in between the couch cushions.
After hunting for however long, I snapped it open and Austin's text read, "outside. Took me forever to find your place. Am I being reimbursed for gas money?? ;)"
Sorry, not with my tips or paycheck. He invited me, and I simply accepted the invitation. And it was definitely not my fault that he couldn't find my apartment. I've lived here for years, you'd think I was crystal clear on the directions. Maybe I wasn't, I thought as I picked Peachy's claws off of the baby deer's face. Or maybe he was bad with directions... that wasn't ever a good thing.
I grabbed my purse, checked my reflection one last time, and gave Peachy a good rub behind his head. He purred and I smiled, glad that I chose the company that I did.
When I walked out, I was surprised to see Austin's head leaning out of the window, his jaw slowly dropping farther and farther as I got closer.
Feeling self conscious, I almost darted back inside, but instead, I looked down at myself, grinning to the perfect Christmas sweater.