I gaze at the young woman in the full-length mirror; unconvinced it is truly my face which stares back. Sunshine peers over my shoulder, watching me with a tender expression. She smooths my shoulders and steps back. “Well, it seems to fit well. Will that be okay?” The dress is charcoal gray and I fidget as I try in vain to pull it down. My knees poke out the bottom, making me self-conscious. At home, to show one’s ankles be scandalous. The top bodice is tight and gathered, culminating in what they call a ‘turtleneck’. My dark red ringlets are a bright contrast lying against it. Sunshine has completed my ‘make-up’ as she calls it, and one eyebrow rises in evaluation. She nods, admiring her handiwork. “I never had a little sister,” she quips, arranging my hair behind me. The result is remarkable. I pivot from side to side, trying to reassure myself I am truly the reflection. I look as beautiful as any of the gentry back home. If I wore a ball gown, I would be indistinguishable from the classes I’ve served.
