The most awkward part, in Shiloh’s opinion, regarding her mutation was the fact she had to either alter or make all of her shirts and dresses herself. The stares were something she could deal with, she could ignore the adults acting like immature bullies and the children asking questions (only to be shushed by parents saying they were being rude). But measuring across her back to see how she needed to work around her own wings? That was troublesome at best and impossible at worse.
“I’m sorry, excuse me?” Shiloh had her own tape-measure in one hand and a small handful of safety pins in the other. “Could you help me measure something?” Sure, she was a regular at the shop and on good enough terms with most of the girls working there to have one of them assist, but they were with other customers and she knew it was a busy day so they needed to get as much work done as possible with as few interruptions as possible.