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Gorgeous
"Ugly," she thought, "Ugly, ugly, ugly."
Standing in the mirror she did not like what she saw. Long, crooked toes. Fat, white thighs that wobbled when she breathed. A stomach that looked as though the only thing she ate was beer. Tiny, little mole hills,
"no way they could sustain life", she mused. Turkey-skin arms. Big, brown freckles splotched wherever they felt the need to congregate. Pasty white skin. Uneven lips. Mousey-brown, lank hair. Heaving the pretty fabric over her head, she wished the image that would stare back at her would metamorph into someone like on the TV. Some one perfect. She tugged at the dress, pulling it over her hips, and smoothing it down.
Opening the curtain, her fans, her mother and sister, marvelled at her. She cringed as fake compliments spilled from their mouths. She didn’t want to put herself through the torture of the changing room one more time so agreed, passing her money to the girl behind the counter.
The dress, swirling in a multitude of colours and swathed with sequins, was folded neatly into a bag, its tulle hem cascading out. Jewels were purchased, the same colour as the material. She felt as though she was wearing big, juicy candies around her neck.
At home, her hair was pulled, twisted, teased, sprayed into shape. Strategically placed tendrils
wisped around her face. Her chubby fingers smeared foundation across her face; she tried to blend it into a respectable colour. With a shaking hand she applied bright eye shadow; her bright eyes standing out, the one feature she liked. Her eyelashes became fat, black spider legs, clustered around her eyes. Her lips, a pale apple red.
She turned the music up, the one thing that made her forget about her body. She began tapping her feet, the music becoming an extension of her body. Her dress glistened with each twist of her body. Sashaying around the room, strands of hair began to escape the tight confines of her bun. She caught a glimpse of herself in the steamy mirror, and stopped. Embarrassed that she had acted in such a way.
The doorbell rang. She could hear champagne corks whizzing through the room, and her parents greeting her date.
She'd liked him for a long time, growing up together, she couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t been beside her. Walking out of the bathroom, the whole room went quiet, her mum’s eyes welled up, and she blinked with the incessant flashes of the camera being pointed at her.
He walked towards her, holding out a simple corsage, the hues of the rose perfectly complementing her dress. He fumbled with it, sliding it over her wrist. Their eyes met, a shaky smile leapt to her face. Grabbing her small bag, they headed for the door.
The tiny stars winked at this young couple, the moon smiled down upon them; their shadows lingering behind. As they walked down the cold, dewy concrete, his arm reached for hers. Their limbs entwined and he peered at her.
"You’re gorgeous," he said.
And for the first time, in as long as she could remember, she felt it.
The Prom Dress
Rockwell, Norman
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