Perfect Girl - Weebly

Aunt Marty beams. She races ahead, as if she already knows
her favorite section. Me, I wander through the demi cups,
push-ups, bustiers, corsets, slimmers, enhancers, and
enough racy lingerie to outfit the MTV awards show. I feel
overwhelmed. The perfume gives me a headache. All I want
is a pair of simple silk underpants so I can have a delicious
secret—one that Perry Gould can’t wait to reveal.
“The silk underwear section, please,” I say, when a saleswoman
approaches me. She has long blond hair and boobs
too big for her tiny body. Her name tag reads, LILAH. Of
course her name is Lilah! It’s so . . . so . . . exotic. Unlike
Ruthie, which is so . . . so . . . not. Or Ruth (ugh!), which
sounds like I should have a walker and my teeth in a glass
by the bed.
Lilah laughs. “The whole store is the silk underwear section.”
“Oh.”
“Bikini? Boyshorts? Hipsters? Thong? V-string?”
“V-string?” It sounds painful.
Reaching into a rack of leopard-print panties, she pulls
out a tiny triangle of fabric dangling with shoelaces.
“Bikini,” I say fast. “Nothing too skimpy. And nothing
more than twenty-two dollars and seventeen cents.”
“Our superlong thong conforms to your body, doesn’t
constrict.”
“Does it still disappear up your butt?” I ask.
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