8

“Pardon me, Milady, but Master Bishop thought you might need some assistance,” a tiny blonde in a light blue dress said with a curtsy. She was half my size, with porcelain skin and the palest blue eyes. They were practically colorless.

“Oh no, I’m fine. I made my choice for tonight and was just letting Bishop, er Master Bishop, know,” I explained, trying not to stare at the minute person in front of me. I am a fairly hefty girl, at least twenty pounds heavier than most women my height. My curves have curves and I buy pants that take minimal effort to get over my butt. No one uses words like delicate, attractive, or banging body to describe me. Common adjectives include solid, thick, or built like a linebacker. On a good day I feel like a pudgy troll. Next to this itty bitty creature, I was easily a giant pudgy troll.

“Would you like me to iron your selection?” she asked, miniature translucent wings unfurling. They fluttered rapidly as she lifted off the ground and flew right in front