The Pear Shaped Jewel

The day Jada dreaded had finally come. Work functions were surely tedious, and she avoided them. But this one was mandatory. With all the clothes in her closet having been worn many times over at the office, she now needed something new, chic, and beautiful. She fussed as she forced herself to get in her car and drive to the mall. “Why am I doing this? Who am I going to impress anyway? Can’t I just wear black? Ugh!”. She wore black almost every day. It was her go-to color, but she had inadvertently overheard some co-workers criticizing her for it. She HAD to get something nicer. As she scoffed in annoyance, she turned on her engine and drove away. She made her way down the street and into the drive-through of her favorite coffee shop. “Here you go, enjoy,” said her male server. She noticed the man’s eyes straying to her cleavage. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “My receipt please!”- “Oh!”- said the man. “You are right. Here you go. Sorry”. Jada gave him a side glance, shook her head, and drove away. “Perverts!”- she complained. “This world is full of nothing but perverts. Why God? Why?”

Her natural D-cup bra size had made her the subject of objectification ever since her teenage years. She not only hated her breasts, but her round, voluptuous hips, thighs, and backside as well. She felt that, on top of them drawing the wrong kind of attention, no clothes could fit her properly. No pants would go over her hips. Bigger sizes were too loose at the waist as well as too long. Skirts had to either be of stretchy material or, she had to get them taken in at the waist and shortened to her knees- so she would not look like she was drowning in them. Being only four feet eleven inches tall did not help either. She could not wear anything just off the rack. Things almost always had to be altered and this took time and money. Mrs. Liang had been her alteration expert years before. She could make anything fit like a glove. But, with the passing of time, Mrs. Liang got older, and a bout of bone cancer had sent her to hospice. Jada never got to say goodbye as Mrs. Liang passed away shortly after. Who would she get now? That is, if she found anything?

As she walked down the halls of the mall window shopping, nothing looked right to her. She also intended to hide her breasts as much as possible. She zipped her leather vest all the way up, to avoid any further stares. “Wish I could just chop them off!”- she complained rolling her eyes again. She even felt uncomfortable just walking around. In her mind, she thought people were looking at her body and criticizing it in their thoughts. She wished she could hide herself behind her work desk, as she often did. “It is the ONLY thing I look good in”-she lamented. Then she saw a woman in executive attire and had an idea. She could wear two pieces, top and skirt!! No need for altering! Just whatever fit! So, she walked into a bridal store but made it clear that she was only shopping for a two-piece bridesmaid outfit and wanted something off the rack if possible. The young sales associates studied Jada’s figure quickly and quietly as if thinking about what to recommend. Then the manager interrupted- a taller, thin older woman with straight hair bobbed short. “I think I may have just the thing. I’m Marjorie”. Her laugh lines barely formed. She looked as if she could not smile all the way. Her bright teeth looked capped. Her permanent eyebrows moved in a strange manner as their sharp angles were out of harmony with her soft features. Her blue eyes, framed by false lashes, matched the design on her scarf perfectly. “At least her eyes are real! Mph!”- thought Jada to herself, as she held back laughter. “Your scarf is nice”-complimented Jada. “Oh, thank you!’- said Marjorie. “It’s my favorite. I even got these contacts to match it”. The manager shot her another stiff, frozen smile and continued leading the way. Jada bit her tongue hard to avoid laughing out loud. “Not even the eyes”- thought Jada comically. “This world is so full of fakeness. This is why I HATE these parties! Ugh!”

The manager led her into a secluded back room that had more exclusive items. As she looked down at her feet, she asked Jada: “May I ask what shoe size you are?”. The question made Jada feel defensive. Why would she care? Her eight and a half to nine shoe size was yet another source of embarrassment for her. “Why God? Why?”- she complained again. Why did she have to inherit her father’s generous feet, along with long toes, but not his generous height? Jada looked down at her feet and cringed at how the tips of her toes overhung a bit above the edges of her sandals. “Ugh! I’ll chop off those too!”- she thought. The manager interrupted her thoughts. “I ask because we have a nice selection of sandals to go with your outfit. We have leather, kidskin and…” – “I’d rather wear closed toes!”- interrupted Jada….” silk”, said the manager, finishing her sentence with a serious tone. Jada realized she had been rude. “Sorry- it’s just that I hate my feet-especially my toes”. “I understand”- said Marjorie and proceeded in pulling out some corset pieces of good quality. Some laced in the back and others had hook and eye closures. Some were bejeweled. Others embroidered. Some were lace and others were silk. The colors on them were exquisite. Jada’s eyes looked in awe. She had never seen such beautiful things! She let out a smile. “There!”- that’s what we like to see!”- said Marjorie. “Now, you can choose three at a time and I will let you try them on”.

Jada asked the manager to try the pieces in privacy. The first and second piece were nice but did not fit her properly. The third piece, a bustier covered in green embossed silk and very rich golden embroidery down the middle of its front, seemed to be the fit. She felt a strange attraction toward the color as she finished lacing it. But she would need to see herself in a three-way mirror for her final decision. She stepped into the full, floor length tulle skirt that went with it, dappled in the same gold embroidery. She felt regal- and dare she say it- beautiful? Jada stepped out of the room feeling triumphant and walked to the three-way mirror. Marjorie, still nearby, walked over to her. “I think you look amazing! And you?” Jada smiled as she studied her reflection in the three-way mirror. Subconsciously, she was repeating the same old pattern: Looking for any flaw that would disqualify her choice, either with the outfit, or with the way she looked in it. She had grown accustomed to her same old go-to items and would let herself run back to her comfort zone. The reality was that she did not want to deal with overcoming her many physical complexes. But just when she was about to say: “I’ll take them”, another young woman passed by behind her and looked her up and down condescendingly. She turned her nose at Jada and kept on walking by. Jada’s triumphant feeling was suddenly deflated as a barrage of negative thoughts flooded her mind. “What am I thinking!”- she thought, with sadness and anger. “I have a weird body and probably look ridiculous!” Jada ran back into the room of exclusive items, so that no one would see her cry. “Are you ok?”- asked Marjorie, as she knocked on the door. “I am fine!”- replied Jada. “But I will not be taking anything”- “OK”, replied to Marjorie. When Jada walked out, her eyes were red. She handed the manager the items. “Thank you anyway” she said in a lowered, muted voice. “You are welcome”- replied Marjorie softly. “Please take my business card in case you change your mind”. Jada looked at her and forced a smile. “She is just trying to make a sale! Ugh!”- she thought to herself.

As she walked to the front of the store, resolving not to look any more, and forgoing the party altogether, a large photo that hung framed on the wall got her attention. In it, there was a smiling young woman, standing by a pear tree, full of pears. The woman had an attractive face and her updo was decorated by a crown. A sash hung across her torso, and it read: “Miss Le Provence”. She held a wand in one hand and a bouquet in the other. “That’s my grandma”- affirmed Marjorie softly as she stood beside Jada. “She was crowned beauty queen in her hometown of Provence, France. It was 1963. She was 23”. Jada noticed that the girl in the photo was not that tall. Her hair was dark and curly, just like hers. And her voluptuous body, (much like her own) was enveloped by a fitted dress that had a sweetheart neckline and a mermaid bottom. Jada stared and, in her eyes, shone the light of a new revelation. If she had been beautiful to some people then, would it be possible that she too, could be seen as beautiful by others? Despite all the names she had been called and her own mother constantly hinting her to lose weight? “Who cares!!” Jada thought. “None of those people matter and mom is just anorexic-bulimic anyway!!”

Jada smiled and said: “I really admire your grandmother”. Marjorie smiled back nostalgically and replied: “So did I”. Marjorie made a gesture and walked Jada into her office. Upon walking in, there they were, inside a glass display case: the dress, crown, wand, and sash that grandma had worn on that very day of the photo. Jada gasped in amazement. At the bottom, there lay a handwritten note: “We are all queens and beautiful in our own unique way. Don’t forget that. Love, Grandma Elise. 03-23-2013”. “She gave them to me for my birthday”- sighed Marjorie. “Then she was gone not too long after that. I will never forget her”. Jada caught a glimpse of her reflection on the glass of the case. For the first time, she saw the beauty her loved ones had raved about: The beautiful shape of her face, her large, green eyes framed by REAL, long curly lashes. Her wispy, perfect eyebrows. Her heart-shaped pillow-like full lips. And her cascade of dark curls framing it all, its tips gently caressing her narrow shoulders and small waist, that then bombastically widened into her curvy, generous hips. Her legs were thick and her calves strong. The manager interrupted her thoughts, once again. “You are very beautiful too, you know?”

Jada smiled and said: “Thank you!”. This time, she believed it. She felt bad then, for judging Marjorie’s beauty treatments too harshly. After all, she was too a beautiful woman in her own right and such procedures had been her way of creating her own beauty identity. Jada then turned to Marjorie and said: “I am ready to pay- I’ll take them!”. Marjorie nodded with a new smile and led her to the register. Her ensemble turned out being a hit at the event and even many others changed their perception of Jada. Her name had been given to her according to her father’s suggestion, who thought her green, large eyes looked like jade jewels when he saw her as a newborn. She then realized at this thought, that beauty was not found within a certain type of look or appearance, but within the love born, nourished, and cultivated in others. She would cultivate this love from now on. Starting with herself.