The Price of Arrogance

I dropped twenty-five hundred dollars on a dress for a review, and I couldn't even get it on.
I checked the sizing chart on the product page again and again. I hadnt made a mistake.
Defeated, I initiated a return.
I never expected the sellers response to send a hot rush of blood to my head.
[To process your return, you must upload a video detailing twenty flaws in your own body. Then, strip completely naked and get on your knees and bow to the camera in apology.]
[Each bow must be audible. As you bow, you must repeat, Im sorry, Mr. Designer. The problem is my body.]
I was furious. This was a flagrant violation of my dignity. I told them I was filing a formal complaint.
The customer service rep couldnt have cared less.
Go ahead. Ive seen plenty of women with crappy bodies like yours. Its just a few bucks in fines. We can afford it.
Unfortunately for him, hed picked the wrong target.
As a fashion influencer with over ten million followers, I was after a lot more than just a few bucks.

1
The zipper was stuck fast, halfway up my back. No amount of straining would budge it. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and the fabric around my waist and hips was so tight I could barely breathe.
Finally, I gave up.
With my last ounce of strength, I wrestled the dress off my body. It took a few moments to catch my breath before I picked up my phone, opened the shopping app, and navigated to the customer service page to request a return and refund.
Before I could even carefully fold the dress, my request was rejected.
[Your return/refund request has been denied by the seller.]
I paused, realizing I probably should have messaged them first. That was likely the reason for the instant denial.
I quickly opened the chat window.
[Hi, the dress I ordered doesnt fit. Id like to process a return.]
The message was marked as read almost immediately. But the same customer service that had denied my request in seconds now met me with a wall of silence.
I tried initiating the return again. Again, it was instantly rejected.
[Your return/refund request has been denied by the seller.]
Frustrated, I sent another message. After another long wait, a reply finally came through.
[We do not offer a seven-day no-questions-asked return policy.]
The bluntness of the message stunned me. I was used to customer service reps starting every message with a nauseatingly sweet "Hi, sweetie!" This was a first.
But that wasnt the important part.
I quickly pulled up the product page again. Sure enough, tucked away in the fine print, there was no mention of the standard seven-day return policy.
Fine. My mistake for not noticing. But refusing a return on a product that was clearly defective was another matter entirely.
As an influencer who had reviewed thousands of garments, I knew I couldn't back down now. This was a twenty-five-hundred-dollar dress. I wasnt about to let it become a very expensive decoration. Nobodys money grows on trees.
I opened my browser, screenshotted the relevant consumer protection laws regarding online sales, and sent them over.
[Hi there. By law, most goods sold online are subject to a seven-day return policy, and women's apparel is included within that category.]
[Even if its not a quality issue, I have a valid reason for the return. I didn't order the wrong size, nor did I misjudge my own measurements.]
[The fact that it doesn't fit is a problem with the dress itself. Do you require any proof from my end?]
I kept my tone professional and polite, simply stating the facts without aggression.
This time, the reply was swift.
[Send pictures.]
[Make them clear.]
The clipped, impersonal tone was grating, but a request for proof was standard procedure. It was a breakthrough. A return was possible.

2
I sighed, looking at the dress lying in a heap beside me. Reluctantly, I picked it up. The last thing I wanted was to squeeze myself back into that torture device, but if it meant getting my money back, I had to do it.
Besides, it would make for great video content later.
The unforgiving fabric and impossibly tight waistline made the process an ordeal. Finally, I had it on again, the zipper still hopelessly stuck. I grabbed my phone and started taking pictures.
The zipper that wouldn't budge. The red marks the seams left on my arms. The way the waistline cut into my skin, creating rolls that weren't normally there. I documented everything and sent the photos over.
[As you can see, the zipper is completely stuck. The waist is far too tight, and there's no room in the sleeves.]
[I checked the size chart carefully before ordering. Im a standard small, but according to your chart, I needed a large. I ordered the large, and it still doesn't fit.]
I typed out the message, breathless from the effort, hoping to convey my frustration.
A few minutes after the pictures and message were marked as read, the reply came.
[I can't tell anything from these pictures.]
I stared at my phone, bewildered.
[How is that not clear enough? What more do you need to see?]
The rep was unperturbed.
[Send a video. A video of you putting it on and taking it off. I need to see how the entire dress performs on your body.]
I rubbed my face in exasperation. He was deliberately making this difficult. Just getting the dress on and off was a workout. To film it without flashing the camera, Id have to wear a tank top underneath, which would make it even tighter.
But had I come this far just to let twenty-five hundred dollars go down the drain?
I took the dress off again, put on a tank top, set up my phone, and hit record.
I narrated the whole process, pointing out every spot where the dress caught or constricted. Once it was on, I showed the camera all the areas that were clearly too small, explaining each issue. To top it off, as I struggled to take it off, I ended up in a ridiculous, contorted pose that perfectly demonstrated just how ill-fitting the garment was.
I sent the video and collapsed onto the floor, exhausted and overheated. I never wanted to go through that again.
Photos taken. Video recorded. Surely, that was enough to get my refund.
A few minutes later, his reply made my blood boil.
[This isn't a problem with the dress.]
[It's a problem with your body. It doesn't fit because your figure is bad, and you're blaming the dress. I'm not giving you a refund.]
The words on the screen felt like a slap. I nearly threw my phone.
Did he think I sent him a video so he could critique my body? Whether my body was "good" or not was irrelevant. This was a size large dress that a person who wears a size small couldn't even get into. How was that my fault?
I was seeing red, my chest tight with fury. Just then, a message from my friend Mimi popped up. I tapped on it, ready to vent.
But the link she sent left me numb with shock.
It was a link to a forum post titled: She Blames My Dress for Her Lousy Body. My $2500 Dresses Aren't Made for Trash Like This.
The cover image was one of the unedited photos I had just sent to customer service.
Forgetting to even reply to Mimi, I clicked the link, my whole body trembling.
Can you believe someone had the audacity to return a $2500 dress? Do you know how much of my soul I pour into my work?!
Her body is so pathetic she cant even fit into a size large. Instead of reflecting on how disgusting her figure is, she blames the dress?
I made her send a video, and she actually did it. Flat-chested, no ass, waist like a tree trunk.
And shes wearing a t-shirt underneath. Whats she trying to hide? Women like her shouldnt even be allowed to wear dresses. Looking at her is an assault on the eyes!
The comment section was a cesspool of agreement.
Shes obviously just a cheapskate who wanted to wear a nice dress for some Instagram photos and then return it.
OP, post the video! I want to see just how bad her body is!
I was about to explode. My fingers flew across the keyboard.
Its a consumers right to return a faulty product! How dare you violate her privacy by posting her photos online? And what business is it of yours what her body looks like?
The original poster replied almost instantly, his tone dripping with venom.
Looks like I hit a nerve. You must have a hideous body too, right? Why dont you post a picture? We can all see whos worse.
A few people sided with me.
Dude, who are you to judge her body? Your design is clearly flawed, and you wont even let her return it. From what I can see, your size large is smaller than a childs medium. How can you sit here and talk trash?
The poster was relentless.
Another fatty triggered, huh? If you cant fit into my clothes, it means you need to lose weight. Go get some lipo or something. Otherwise, your boyfriend wont even be able to look at you!
One of his cronies chimed in: Yeah! Keep messing with her! Make her send more vids! The kind we like!
The poster immediately replied: Good idea. How about a naked one?
A moment later, a new message from customer service appeared on my phone.
[If you want your refund, upload a video detailing twenty flaws of your own body. Be comprehensive. For example: breasts too small, thighs too fat, etc.]
[Then, strip completely naked and get on your knees and bow in apology.]
[Each bow must be audible. As you bow, you must say youre sorry to the designer, that the problem is your body. If I see you are sincere, I will process your refund.]

3
I understood every word on the screen, but the combination of them made my blood feel like it was boiling over.
He had already violated my privacy and posted my photos online for public ridicule. Now he wanted to subject me to this humiliating ritual. This was no longer about a simple return. This was a deliberate, malicious attack designed to break my spirit.
I was shaking with rage. I had complied with all of his ridiculous demands, hoping to resolve this peacefully and exercise my basic rights as a consumer. But that was not a sign of weakness.
He wanted me to insult myself, to prostrate myself naked and beg for forgiveness? Only a complete psychopath would demand something so twisted.
There was a time when I, too, had tortured my body, chasing the impossible standards of a "size zero," "thigh gap," and "90-degree shoulders" that were trending online. It wasn't until I broke free from that mindset that I realized the concept of a "good" or "bad" body is an arbitrary standard set by others. Health is all that matters.
And now, this stranger, this customer service rep, felt he had the right to pass judgment on my body, to force me into his perverse mold of self-loathing. He had another thing coming.
The last thread of my composure snapped.
All the frustration and anger I had suppressed came roaring to the surface. I wanted to tear him apart. But as a seasoned reviewer who had dealt with hundreds of brands, I knew that lashing out would get me nowhere. A simple complaint or an angry tirade wouldn't be enough to truly punish him.
I needed irrefutable proof. I needed to make him say it himself.
I took a few deep breaths, forcing the inferno in my chest down to a simmer. I typed calmly.
[Im sorry, the platform seems to have flagged some keywords. I cant see your message clearly. Could you send it as a voice memo so I know what I need to do?]
A gruff, male voice came through the speaker.
I want you to list your own flaws, so you have a clearer understanding of your disgusting body. Then, youre going to get naked and bow down to me, to apologize for having such a trashy figure.
I recorded the entire voice memo, then took screenshots of our entire chat history, making sure the timeline of his harassment was crystal clear.
I switched back to my chat with Mimi, who had been sending a stream of concerned messages.
[Do you know a good lawyer?]
She replied instantly, surprised.
[Youre going to sue him?]
I looked at the forum post, where the number of views and comments was still climbing. I clenched my jaw.
[Damn right I am. A slap on the wrist won't teach him anything. It's time to go for the jugular.]
But this evidence alone wasn't enough. Not for what I had in mind.
I didn't reply further. Instead, I went to the shopping apps main help center and found the "File a Complaint" button. I uploaded all the evidence. The platform's response was slow. Finally, after an agonizing wait, a notification popped up.
[We sincerely apologize for your negative experience. The platform will mediate this issue, and we will update you here with the resolution.]
The next second, my phone rang. I answered. A familiar, gruff voice yelled through the speaker.
You dared to file a complaint?!
Here we go. This is what I was waiting for.
I turned on my phones screen recorder, took a deep breath, and replied calmly. Is this the customer service representative? You told me to strip naked and bow to you. Who else was I supposed to complain about?
A sneer came from the other end of the line. Ha! You think a complaint is going to do anything? Big deal, theyll fine me a few bucks. You think I cant afford it? Ive seen plenty of women with disgusting bodies like yours. And let me tell you something, Im not some customer service drone. Im the designer of this brand. If you dont do what I say, you have no idea what Im going to do to you.

4
So that was it.
He wasn't some low-level employee. He was the designer. That explained his arrogance. He felt untouchable.
So youre the designer? A man designing womens clothing?
He spat a curse. You women cant do anything right. It takes a man to design clothes that actually look good. And let me tell you, it's too late now. Even if you got naked and bowed, I wouldn't take the dress back!
I let out a cold, internal laugh, but my voice was filled with feigned humiliation. Then what do I have to do to get my money back?
His voice was thick with triumph. Your body is trash, but your face isnt half bad. So, on top of the bowing, youre going to strip and do a little slutty dance for me.
Youre one of those girls who buys expensive clothes just for a photo op, right? Your wallet is probably as empty as your head. If you don't get this twenty-five hundred back, you'll be eating dirt for a month.
But if you dance well, if you make me happy maybe Ill even throw you a few bucks. Hahaha!
I waited for his obnoxious laughter to die down before asking coldly, Arent you afraid Ill post this online?
He laughed even harder. A woman with a body like yours? Youd dare show your face online after this? Just do as I say and stop embarrassing yourself.
Perfect. I had all the explosive, damning statements I needed.
I hung up, not giving him another second to spew his poison. Then, I immediately called my friend.
Mimi, have you found a lawyer? And have you reached out to the other influencers?
Mimis reply was swift and decisive. All contacted. Everyone is fired up. Theyre ready to clean house in the fashion industry.
Good, I said, organizing the files on my computer. This time, were not letting them get away with it. This time, everyone is going to see just how toxic the womens fashion world has become.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "303878" to read the entire book.