Chapter 2The Price of Arrogance

I sighed, looking at the dress lying in a heap beside me. Reluctantly, I picked it up. The last thing I wanted was to squeeze myself back into that torture device, but if it meant getting my money back, I had to do it.

Besides, it would make for great video content later.

The unforgiving fabric and impossibly tight waistline made the process an ordeal. Finally, I had it on again, the zipper still hopelessly stuck. I grabbed my phone and started taking pictures.

The zipper that wouldn't budge. The red marks the seams left on my arms. The way the waistline cut into my skin, creating rolls that weren't normally there. I documented everything and sent the photos over.

[As you can see, the zipper is completely stuck. The waist is far too tight, and there's no room in the sleeves.]

[I checked the size chart carefully before ordering. I’m a standard small, but according to your chart, I needed a large. I ordered the large, and it still doesn't fit.]

I typed out the message, breathless from the effort, hoping to convey my frustration.

A few minutes after the pictures and message were marked as read, the reply came.

[I can't tell anything from these pictures.]

I stared at my phone, bewildered.

[How is that not clear enough? What more do you need to see?]

The rep was unperturbed.

[Send a video. A video of you putting it on and taking it off. I need to see how the entire dress performs on your body.]

I rubbed my face in exasperation. He was deliberately making this difficult. Just getting the dress on and off was a workout. To film it without flashing the camera, I’d have to wear a tank top underneath, which would make it even tighter.

But had I come this far just to let twenty-five hundred dollars go down the drain?

I took the dress off again, put on a tank top, set up my phone, and hit record.

I narrated the whole process, pointing out every spot where the dress caught or constricted. Once it was on, I showed the camera all the areas that were clearly too small, explaining each issue. To top it off, as I struggled to take it off, I ended up in a ridiculous, contorted pose that perfectly demonstrated just how ill-fitting the garment was.

I sent the video and collapsed onto the floor, exhausted and overheated. I never wanted to go through that again.

Photos taken. Video recorded. Surely, that was enough to get my refund.

A few minutes later, his reply made my blood boil.

[This isn't a problem with the dress.]

[It's a problem with your body. It doesn't fit because your figure is bad, and you're blaming the dress. I'm not giving you a refund.]

The words on the screen felt like a slap. I nearly threw my phone.

Did he think I sent him a video so he could critique my body? Whether my body was "good" or not was irrelevant. This was a size large dress that a person who wears a size small couldn't even get into. How was that my fault?

I was seeing red, my chest tight with fury. Just then, a message from my friend Mimi popped up. I tapped on it, ready to vent.

But the link she sent left me numb with shock.

It was a link to a forum post titled: “She Blames My Dress for Her Lousy Body. My $2500 Dresses Aren't Made for Trash Like This.”

The cover image was one of the unedited photos I had just sent to customer service.

Forgetting to even reply to Mimi, I clicked the link, my whole body trembling.

“Can you believe someone had the audacity to return a $2500 dress? Do you know how much of my soul I pour into my work?!”

“Her body is so pathetic she can’t even fit into a size large. Instead of reflecting on how disgusting her figure is, she blames the dress?”

“I made her send a video, and she actually did it. Flat-chested, no ass, waist like a tree trunk.”

“And she’s wearing a t-shirt underneath. What’s she trying to hide? Women like her shouldn’t even be allowed to wear dresses. Looking at her is an assault on the eyes!”

The comment section was a cesspool of agreement.

“She’s obviously just a cheapskate who wanted to wear a nice dress for some Instagram photos and then return it.”

“OP, post the video! I want to see just how bad her body is!”

I was about to explode. My fingers flew across the keyboard.

“It’s a consumer’s right to return a faulty product! How dare you violate her privacy by posting her photos online? And what business is it of yours what her body looks like?”

The original poster replied almost instantly, his tone dripping with venom.

“Looks like I hit a nerve. You must have a hideous body too, right? Why don’t you post a picture? We can all see who’s worse.”

A few people sided with me.

“Dude, who are you to judge her body? Your design is clearly flawed, and you won’t even let her return it. From what I can see, your size large is smaller than a child’s medium. How can you sit here and talk trash?”

The poster was relentless.

“Another fatty triggered, huh? If you can’t fit into my clothes, it means you need to lose weight. Go get some lipo or something. Otherwise, your boyfriend won’t even be able to look at you!”

One of his cronies chimed in: “Yeah! Keep messing with her! Make her send more vids! The kind we like!”

The poster immediately replied: “Good idea. How about a naked one?”

A moment later, a new message from customer service appeared on my phone.

[If you want your refund, upload a video detailing twenty flaws of your own body. Be comprehensive. For example: breasts too small, thighs too fat, etc.]

[Then, strip completely naked and get on your knees and bow in apology.]

[Each bow must be audible. As you bow, you must say you’re sorry to the designer, that the problem is your body. If I see you are sincere, I will process your refund.]