"What's with the dress, son?"
I twirled, "It has a nice skirt, observe the swish!"
"It looks wrong."
"I think it looks good!"
My dad beckoned me closer and I stomped over, pride bruised, lip struck out in a defiant pout.
"It's inside out," he announced, pointing out the seams.
I blinked, looking closely, then started to blush.
He plonked my glasses on my nose.
"Anyway, wear it like that if you want, but I need help with dinner."
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