"I don't know why I'm looking at this at all. All it does is depress me." Amelia let out a sigh.
"That's a lie and you know it." Alice said, rolling her eyes. "You can't get enough of high fashion and runway shows."
"That doesn't mean it doesn't depress me. I could never wear any of this stuff."
"Why not?" Alice asked as she peered over Amelia's shoulder. In Amelia's lap lay a Vogue magazine, open to one of the many fashion spreads.
"What do you mean 'why not'? Look at these girls. What do they all have in common?" Amelia asked as she flipped though the spreads.
"They're all wearing outrageously expensive clothes and have teased their hair into an absolute mess."
"Well yes, that too. Look at their bodies though. They're all very thin and not particularly curvy. They've got some curves, yes, but they look more as if a little boy were made to be five-foot-ten and given a bra."
"Alright then. They're all tall and thin in the extreme. You're still pretty tall. I may make fun of your caloric intake, but you're still within model sizes. Why can't you wear these clothes?"
"Ali-" Amelia began to whine before she was promptly cut off.
"How many times must I tell you that I don't like nicknames?" Alice asked with a sharp look in Amelia's direction.
"Fine," Amelia huffed, "Alice. You're missing a crucial difference. I can't fathom how you could be missing it either, as I'm almost positive that you can see straight down my shirt from the angle you're at."
"Oh!" Alice blushed cherry red.
"I maybe in the proper size range, but I'm not shaped anything like these models. You know what though? If you were taller, you'd make a great model."
"Because I'm shaped like a stretched out little boy in a bra?"
"Because you're skinny and flat-chested and would look very pretty in these designs."
"Well, at least you ended with a compliment." Alice mumbled out.
"Say again?"
"Nothing, just talking to myself."
"You do that a lot. There must be something wrong with you." Amelia laughed.
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