She sat there, perched on the windowsill like a cat. Her Grandma’s linen dress hugging her body closely. The last few years had really seen her figure change, a constant self-analysis hosted by the mirror on the back of the door. Secondary school had consisted of numerous memories of torment. Girls could be cruel and so could the teachers for that matter. Coming into her own at an early age had brought a lot of attention. So, from what seemed like the start of her teen years, Rachel had always been on the chopping block. It was no surprise then that she had obtained the habit of a lengthy getting ready process. Today she had finally decided to take out her grandmother’s red linen dress. The summer had well and truly arrived in the small coastal town of Weddington, the leaves shimmering under the warm sun. That Tuesday morning had seen a particularly confident Rachel wake up. So much so that she decided she could don the red linen dress that had been hanging in her wardrobe for the past 6 years. Waiting for her figure to represent the woman she was, the last few years had consisted of her dreaming of the day she was finally ready to wear the red dress. All the women in her family had been blessed with graceful curves. Even her Great Grandmother could not shroud her figure under the enormous crinoline she had to drag about on a day-to-day basis. Stories of Great Granny had been frequently heralded within the house, especially before bedtime. Rachel knew this dress was not merely a large piece of cloth, but a rite of passage, a symbol of her womanhood that had cemented her amongst the lineage of other Flimby’s that had existed before her. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she could not help but smile. Gone was the anxiousness and nerves that had plagued her previous mornings before university, greeting the aura of confidence that embalmed the red linen dress.