Clothes on the floor, tears in her eyes and a woman’s nightmare on the mirror.
Ashmi Shah is a CA by profession with a talent to write twisted plots with an extremely short economy of words. You can read her micro-tales on instagram @3am.thrills.
I consciously tugged at my skirt, pulling it lower trying to cover as much skin as possible. It kept jumping up due to my wide hips, and over-sized butt. My gaze lingered at my flabby arms, as the beautiful lace top clung to my upper body, accentuating my curves. My chubby face reflected utter disappointment as yet another outfit “didn’t suit me”. The party was an hour away, frustrated I picked up another dress. This one was a nice turquoise blue, the perfect fit and flare I had chosen for my body type. I squeezed myself into it somehow, and looked at myself. The excitement on my face, turned into utter disgust. I yanked it off, and dropped it as lay crumpled on the floor I looked at it longingly. It was such a beautiful blue, perfect for the night. My eyes scanned through the array of clothes sitting in my cupboard, waiting to humiliate me. I picked out my dark blue ripped jeans, and a scarlet top with sleeves, the perfect way to conceal my arms. My eyes reflected a spark of hope, this should fit me well, it looked much looser than the other two outfits I had tried on. I slid into my jeans, vehemently wriggled my way in, only to realise the button didn’t close. My eyes started swelling up with tears. I recalled how my girlfriends always looked stunning at every party, with their perfect bodies, crimson lipsticks and glamorous clothes. How could I compete with that? I asked myself as I glared at my naked body in the mirror. My love handles seemed to protrude even more today. My elephant hips or bare face wasn’t making me feel any better. I untied my hair, to let it fall loose, the only hope I truly had left to make me feel good about myself. My hair cascaded down by bare back, I ruffled my hands through it desperately trying to give it some bounce, but it just stayed there, disheveled as ever. “Seriously! This is the perfect time for a bad hair day” I sighed in disappointment. The tears that had brimmed my eyes, had now started making their way out. My eyes darted through each piece of clothing I owned. My heart sank as I realised I had nothing to wear. Exasperated, I fervently started typing an apology message. Picked up the ball of clothes scattered on the floor, shoved them in my cupboard and plopped miserably on my bed. My complexes had gotten the better of me again as I decided to skip yet another public appearance.
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