I always dreamed of working in the fashion industry. It was the career I had imagined for myself ever since I could remember. But from the moment I stepped into that world, things were harder than I thought. The whispers, the looks, the judgment—it was all there, and it felt like I couldn’t escape it. My boss, Aiden, was especially hard on me. All he saw was my size, not my skills. They all thought I didn’t belong, but I was determined to prove them wrong.
The morning of my first day, I was so nervous that I could barely keep it together. My palms were sweaty, and my heart was racing as I walked toward my new job. I kept telling myself it was going to be fine, but deep down, I couldn’t shake the fear. “What if they don’t accept me?” I wondered. “What if I mess up?”
The building was sleek, all glass and steel. It looked like something out of a movie. But when I stepped inside, my nerves only grew. I fumbled with my ID, swiping it twice before the elevator finally opened with a soft ding. I muttered to myself, “You’ve got this.” The elevator climbed higher, the numbers ticking upward. When the doors opened, I breathed a sigh of relief.
At the reception desk was a young woman who looked like she’d just stepped off a magazine cover. She was confident, poised, with flawless makeup and perfectly styled hair.
“Hi, I’m—” I started, walking toward her.
She barely glanced at me and interrupted, “Oh, you’re the new cleaning lady. Let me show you around.” She grabbed a clipboard and stood up quickly.
I froze, confused. “No, actually—”
She wasn’t listening. “Follow me,” she said, walking briskly. “You need to familiarize yourself with the cleaning supplies. The bathrooms are down the hall. Check them regularly.”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. “I’m not—”
“You’ll also handle the trash,” she added without looking back. “Take it out at the end of the day—or sooner, if needed. Oh, and the break room needs to be cleaned. People here are messy.”
My cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”
Before I could finish, we turned a corner, and that’s when I saw him—Aiden, the designer I was supposed to assist. He glanced at me, then snapped, “Christy, where’s my assistant?” His voice was impatient, like I was already late.
Christy smiled awkwardly. “This is our new cleaner.”
I felt my heart drop. I stepped forward, trying to recover from the misunderstanding. “Actually, my name is Natalie, and I’m your new assistant.” I extended my hand, hoping this would clear things up.
Christy’s eyes widened as she realized her mistake.
Aiden, on the other hand, barely seemed to care. His gaze moved over me, sizing me up. “Did HR even see you before they hired you?” he asked coldly.
I could feel his judgment, but I didn’t let it show. “Yes, I’m a professional, and I’m confident I can contribute,” I replied firmly, despite my nervousness.
Aiden didn’t even acknowledge my handshake. “We’ll see,” he muttered before walking away.
I stood there, frozen for a moment, before he snapped, “Are you just going to stand there?” His voice was sharp.
Flustered, I hurried to follow him, my heart pounding in my chest.
As we walked, I overheard him mutter under his breath, “With that weight, I doubt she can keep up. Let’s hope she doesn’t break anything.”
His words were like daggers. I bit my lip, pretending I didn’t hear him, but they stung. Each word replayed in my mind, making me feel smaller and smaller.
The next two weeks were a nightmare. I had imagined this job would be a dream, but instead, it felt like a battle. Every day was filled with more whispers and judgment. I overheard cruel comments like, “Why doesn’t she just lose weight?” “How does someone like her even work in fashion?” and “She must not own a mirror.”
It hurt, more than I cared to admit. I wanted to speak up, to show them I had ideas and skills, but I was terrified they’d just laugh at me. So, I stayed silent, convincing myself that no one would care about my thoughts.
One afternoon, I was organizing sketches for Aiden’s latest collection when something caught my eye. The sizes on the designs ranged from 2XS to L. But when I looked closer, I realized that even the L was ridiculously small. It was more like a snug M.
“Why are these sizes so limited?” I asked, holding up a sample dress. The fabric was beautiful, but the sizing was completely off.
Aiden barely looked up from his tablet. “They’re not limited—they’re standard.”
“No, they’re not,” I said, shaking my head. “Most women wouldn’t fit into this L. And we market our clothes as inclusive.”
Aiden gave me a condescending smile. “Sweetheart, just because you can’t fit doesn’t mean no one else can.”
His words stung, but I didn’t back down. “My body is average. Who exactly are we designing for—models?” I asked, my voice shaking but strong.
“For beautiful women,” he replied smugly, as if the answer was obvious.
“Beauty—” I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand.
“You’re getting bold,” he said, his voice cold.
I froze. If I were truly bold, I would’ve stood my ground, but I didn’t. Instead, I sighed and went back to my work, swallowing my frustration.
Later, I overheard Aiden in the HR office. His voice was sharp as he said, “I can’t have her working here anymore. She’s ruining the company’s image.”
“She’s skilled,” the HR rep replied. “We haven’t found anyone with her expertise.”
“I don’t care,” Aiden snapped. “I can’t stand having that fat girl around.”
Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. My chest tightened, and tears threatened to spill. But as I sat at my desk, something changed inside me. Sadness gave way to anger, and that anger turned into determination.
If Aiden didn’t recognize my worth, I would make sure my work did. I worked day and night, designing pieces that celebrated real beauty and inclusivity. I refused to design for just one type of woman.
Finally, the day of the new collection’s debut arrived. When the runway lights flashed on, I swapped out Aiden’s lineup for my own. My models were real women with all types of bodies, showing the world that beauty came in every shape and size.
The crowd went wild. Applause echoed through the room. The excitement was palpable.
Aiden was furious, but I stood tall, knowing I had made my mark. When the announcer called for the designer, I stepped forward, proud and confident.
The cheers from the audience felt like a victory for me and for every woman who had ever been told she didn’t belong. I had proven my worth, not with words, but with action.
What do you think of this story? Do you believe in redefining beauty? Share your thoughts in the comments below!