I threw my clothes out of my dresser to find my light blue tank top. When I caught a glimpse of the straps, I yanked it out of the pile and hugged it toward my chest. After shedding my baggy shirt and changing into my new find, I admired myself in the mirror, taking in my every curve now accentuated by the top and my tight denim shorts.

I twisted, turned, and winked flirtatiously. I look adorable. I bet the students wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off me when I step into the classroom. I giggled girlishly, took off my top and shorts, laid them softly on my dresser, and went to bed.

A ray of sun peeked through the curtains as my mom violently banged on the door. “Wake up honey! You don’t want to be late for the first day of school.” I yanked the covers off my bed and bounced to the dresser to get ready.

The empty corridor had white walls covered with golden-framed paintings and smooth marble floors that glinted in the sunlight. The sound of high-heeled footsteps echoed off the wall behind me. I turned around and was greeted by a smooth, white hand. I took my right hand out of my pocket and shook it. The hand she extended smelled faintly of flowers. The woman wore a plain black circular skirt that slightly covered her knees and a white long-sleeve blouse with its collar tucked neatly under her neck. She smiled at me. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then tattooed on in thin, smooth arcs above her soft watery brown eyes. She held herself as if she were a marionette with a string running up her back, holding each vertebrae in place, one above the other. 

She would look better in a blouse that accentuates her collarbone and pencil skirts that defines her curves.

“Hi, Margaret! I am Ms. Zhou and welcome to Guangzhou International School. I didn’t realize it was this warm outside already?” Ms. Zhou skeptically glanced up and down at my outfit.

I shrugged and replied, “When I was in Boston, my friends and I wore t-shirts and shorts when it was 70 degrees—I mean 20 degrees.”

“Um… okay, I guess you don’t get cold easily.” Ms. Zhou checked her watch and said, “Follow me. We will head to your first class.” I eagerly followed her, my heart thumping loudly as I barely contained my excitement.

Ms. Zhou pushed the door open and introduced me. I straightened my back and pointed my nose skyward as I strode into the classroom. I flashed a dazzling smile, and I took in the scene before me. The glasses-sporting girls in the front row narrowed their eyes at me, while the makeup-clad girls in the back whispered to each other. While some of the boys seemed nonplussed, a number of the other boys’ jaws dropped.

“Why don’t you sit beside Jason?” Ms. Zhou pointed to an empty seat at the back of the classroom beside a bony boy with huge, round glasses that dangled loosely down on his nose. I nodded and walked to that empty seat and sat down.

Throughout the class, Jason kept looking back and staring at me. I was used to the attention but his gawking made me uncomfortable. When the bell rang for dismissal, I scanned the classroom to attempt to find new friends. I caught the glance of a girl with heavy eyeshadow and pink lip gloss and waved at her. The girl rolled her eyes and whispered to her friends. The girls around her glanced at me and smirked. Then, they flicked their hair back and left.

Oh...well I guess I’ll eat lunch by myself then.

I swung my bag up behind my back and was just about to leave when something caught my eye. I looked down and saw Jason had left his phone on his desk. I picked it up and looked around the classroom. All the students had already left.

“LMAO...Have you seen the new girl?”

I peered closer and clicked to see the notifications.

“Her shorts are so short, I can see her hot pink panties.”

“No! They’re not pink, they’re hot red!”

“Eww… she is gross.”

“OMG. Have you seen her chest? She’s so sexy.”

“She’s so exposed! I bet she’s a slut.”

I slammed the phone back on the table, breathing heavily. I pulled my shorts down and lifted my tank top to cover my chest. Honestly, what’s wrong with them? My outfit is just what you’d see in any American high school.

For the rest of the day, I paid closer attention to the various encounters with teachers and students. I noticed the male teachers always glanced sideways and never looked me directly in the eye. I realized the boys giggled as I walked by. I remembered the girls’ penetrating eyes as they glared at me. 

When the bell finally rang to mark the end of the school day, I sighed with relief and headed to my mom’s car outside.

“Hey Margaret, how was your day?” My mom glanced at me through the rearview mirror

I rested my head on my arms, looked out the window, and shrugged. “It’s weird. The teachers and the students were just acting weirdly around me.”

“Oh...how come?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well...we’re going to your grandma’s house right now so be respectful and cheerful.”

“Sure...” I put my earbuds in so I could block off the rambling.

What a weird school.

As the car screeched by the traffic lights, I noticed the teenage girls wore shirts that covered their shoulders and skirts till their knees. Women wore more loose and baggy pants. Old ladies wore clothes that covered them from their shoulders to their ankles.

Aren’t they hot in this weather?

The car parked beside a creamy-white concrete apartment, pulling me abruptly from this confusing train of thought. The car engine stopped rumbling and my mom turned around and looked sternly at me. “Remember to be respectful to your grandma.”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. Why would I even want to argue with my gentle and amicable grandma?

I rang the doorbell and Grandma opened the door slowly. She’d shrunk by a few inches, more strands of white hair clung to her skull, more wrinkles surrounded her eyes, and her baggy cheeks pulled down her features. She wore a flowery sweater that draped loosely to the knees and a maxi skirt that flowed to her ankles.

“Hi, Grandma.” I wrapped my arms around the bony lady, but she squirmed.

I pulled myself back and smiled at her. She bit her lips and furrowed her eyebrows.

Suddenly, she stretched out her bony hands and violently tugged at my jeans. I swung my right arm and held on to the door for stability. 

“Woah. Grandma, what was that for?” I pulled my jeans out of my grandma’s hands.

My grandma fidgeted with her fingers, shook her head, and mumbled something inaudible.

I leaned forward and asked, “What, Grandma?”

“Disgrace...disgrace...disgrace!”

I shot back a glance at my mom. Grandma hardly raised her voice beyond a whisper, let alone yelled at me. 

My mom covered her mouth and her eyes widened. 

“This outfit is unacceptable...too much skin...” Her voice continued to murmur.

“The food is ready. Why don’t we head to the dining table and eat?” My aunt emerged from inside and put her hands gently on Grandma’s shoulder and nudged her along.

I stared at my mom, but she followed them, avoiding eye contact with me.

After dinner, when I was putting the dishes away, I turned to my mom and asked, “Mom, did you hear what grandma said about me?”

My mom stopped scrubbing the dishes and looked softly at me, “Yes sweetheart. I’m sorry that grandma was so straightforward.”

I waved my hand and replied, “No, what I am confused about was why she labeled me in such a negative way.”

My mom raised her eyebrows. “You don’t know why she said that?”

I lifted my eyebrows and tilted my head questioningly.

“Well...I understand that you don’t like to throw your old clothes away, but when your clothes don’t fit you very well anymore, maybe you should donate them.”

“They fit me just fine,” I replied curtly.

“Are you sure? When you lean forward, I can see your underpants.”

“Yes. My clothes fit me just fine. Plus, if you remember my friends back home, you would probably yell at them too.”

My mom sighed. “This is China, not America. 要入乡随俗 (When in Rome, do as the Romans do). Do you want to go to the mall with me and get some new clothes tomorrow?”

I looked away from her and ignored her question. As I stacked the rest of the plates away, I pondered: Margaret. What is your goal in this new life? Is it to wear cute clothes and get shunned, or is it to dress more appropriately and get embraced? 

I carefully put the last plate back on its shelf, smiled weakly, and said, “I guess I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

That night, I drearily trudged back to my room, no longer satisfied with the image of a girl with a drooping chest, protruded tummy, and sagging butt. Grandma’s stinging comments and disappointed looks had left their mark. Long gone were the days when my grandma nodded and applauded approvingly at my awards and achievements.

I clutched the straps of my top and yanked it over my head. I unzipped my shorts and kicked them frustratedly to the side of the room. Picking up a large trash bag, I threw my American clothes into it, tied a big knot, and dumped the trash bag in the basement.

The next day, as my mom and I stepped into the mall, teenage girls with t-shirts and shorts passed us, followed by young women with elbow-length sweaters and knee-length skirts. Some women wore sleeveless tops, but I didn’t notice anyone wearing tank tops except for men. 

When I peeked into various stores, my mind continued to wander to the clothes in the basement as I dreamed of the soft cotton gripping my body. My desire was finally fulfilled when I noticed a strapped top at an underwear store, but then the image of my grandma’s disapproving look haunted me.

After dropping the bags of new clothes in my room, I tiptoed down the stairs to the basement, picked up the trash bag filled with my clothes, and brought it back to my room. I untied the knot, hugged all my American clothes, and placed them back in my dresser.

As my finger felt the familiar, soft cloth, I slowly lifted my favorite blue shirt out of the bag and rubbed it. I can’t imagine not wearing this again. I put the top over my body and wore a new unbuttoned sweater over it. The sweater covered my shoulders and the familiar undergarment brought me a sense of confidence.

For the rest of the school year, I continued to wear my old clothes under my new clothes. Grandma started to smile at me more often. More girls started to greet me, and fewer students gawked at me.

After a year of living in China, my old friends sent me an old picture of us at a dance party. I gasped and stared at my bare shoulders, exposed chest, and short shorts. I put the phone down and turned towards the mirror, content with my reflection.