My High School Life [Rewritten - Ongoing]

12. [Isabella]

Eleven months.

That's how long it'd been since I first started my training. Since then, Alex had weighed me at the end of each month. Every time he did, I would sneak a peek at my weight, but he would shield my eyes to prevent me from seeing the actual number. He knew it would be more special if I saw it once the year was up. But as I looked in the mirror each and every day, I'd noticed my figure getting smaller and smaller to the point that I was even going to let my mom pick out a dress for me to wear for my birthday.

"Isabella," I heard my mom called, as I rooted my way through my closet.

I cranked my neck around and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"What color do you want your dress to be in?" she asked, with a permanent smile on her face. She couldn't stop smiling since I'd agreed to wear a dress this morning. Apparently, according to my mom, the last time I let her picked out an outfit to wear was in Elementary school—when she could dress me anyway she wanted.

"Purple," I decided, going with my favorite color.

"Then I think I have just the dress." She smiled and headed to the far left, where all the evening and party dresses were. A few moments later she came back holding a dark sleeveless dress. It was one of those dresses where it was shorter in the front, but longer in the back. The front came up to about mid-thigh and even though I was starting to get comfortable with my body, I wasn't that comfortable showing off my legs—yet. I'll probably end up wearing leggings underneath it.

"It's cute, but will it fit me?" I asked, dubiously looking at the waist size. Even though it was loose fitting, the dress came with a tiny brown belt, so I wasn't sure how expandable it'll be.

"You'll never know until you try it on."

"I guess you're right." I took the dress from her and headed towards my suite's bathroom. Flipping on the lights, I quickly slipped off my t-shirt and sweatpants, and put one foot after another into the opening. Holding onto the cropped top, I took a deep breath and mentally crossed my fingers. Lifting the dress up my legs, I began to smile when it started passing my waist easily, and finally up my back to my shoulder blades.

"Mom, it fits!" I exclaimed, as I fumbled with the doorknob. When the dang thing finally decided to open, I ran towards the closet screaming, 'it fits' all the way there.

"I heard." She laughed, chuckling at my outburst.

I nodded, too thrilled to stop smiling. "I haven't been able to fit a size nine in ages!"

"I know, but look at you." She sniffed, looking like she was on the verge of tears. "You look so beautiful, sweetie."

I smiled, feeling the salty sensation just bursting to come out. "I feel beautiful."

"You'd always been beautiful, honey," she said, tenderly rubbing soothing circles up and down my bare back. "Now, before we both start crying up a storm, let's get your hair done."

"Thanks, Mom." I grinned, leaning my head onto her shoulder. "For everything."

She smiled back and pulled me tight against her. Letting go of me a moment later, she looked down at me tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "What style do you want?"

"Maybe some loose curls?"

"Whatever you want," she replied, as she lead me to her room. Seeing that I had no styling products whatsoever, Mom set up a mini hair station in front of her dresser, equipped with the latest hair styling tools in all different shapes and colors.

Once I was seated, she spun me away from the mirror, blocking my view.

"You'll see the finish product once I'm done," she said probably seeing the obvious disappointment on my face. I reluctantly nodded, as I watched her grab the curling iron, and started working her magic on my head.