Bellamy's Redemption

Beneath this was a bulleted list. It recommended I bring along:

ten evening gowns

seven sexy-sassy swimsuits

swimsuit cover-ups if desired

seven cocktail dresses

ten cute, casual date outfits

shoes suitable for rock climbing

appropriate sleep attire

workout clothing if desir

ed

clothing suitable for downtime

sandals and other casual footwear

a beach tote

a beach towel

a beach hat

a variety of handbags and clutches

one or two disposable outfits for a potential ‘helping on the farm’ scene

ten or more pairs of strappy, sexy heels

jewelry and other accessories, as needed

often overlooked items such as gel inserts for shoes or double sided tape

It recommended I not bring along the following:

t-shirts, caps, etc. bearing logos or sayings, in particular but not limited to sayings of political, religious, illegal, or sexually explicit content

clothing of a particularly risqué quality - use you best judgment

clothing bearing stains, marks, or tears that are not a part of the original design

clothing that is off-trend

clothing that could be considered conservative, comfortable, or dowdy

I reread the last line a few times, trying to decipher what was wrong with being comfortable. The components of my real-life wardrobe, sadly, did not resemble the suggestions on their list. My clothes were mainly a mix of very professional and very casual. That was my life: work or lounge at home. I was unsure what I was going to do. I looked at my instructions again, thinking perhaps if I kept reading I might figure out a plan.

I saw that it was also encouraged that we do any necessary “tweaking” to prepare ourselves, such as teeth whitening, breast augmentations, rhinoplasties, haircuts and colors, etc. Then beneath that it said that we were NOT being advised or encouraged to do these things; that it was entirely up to us.

Realizing I was freezing, I started my car. What was my plan? I had a couple of little black dresses and a few bad bridesmaid’s dresses hanging in my closet. Maybe two pairs of strappy heels. I sighed, calling Betsy back.

“Hi Emma,” she said flatly.