The Armour

She stands on the cusp of entry.
The muted sounds of revelry thump through the walls
She knows as soon as she steps in
Eyes will swivel her way, perusing every last detail
The vultures will be waiting to strike
Searching for the slightest hint of fear
To dig in and rip her esteem to shreds

She takes one last look in the mirror.
Panic.
Fuck! Why didn’t I wear the other outfit?
I look ridiculous.
I have broken every law of decency.
My boobs are spilling out everywhere
My skirt is too short – overexposing my dimpled thighs
My ‘love handles’ are like spare tyres
My stomach is bulging most unseemly
Shit! I really should have skipped lunch as well.
People shouldn’t have to see a fat woman in ludicrous clothes
What was I thinking?

Its too late to turn back
Her friends are waiting.
Slinking home is not an option.
She’s here now.
It is going to be a fun party (sure sounds like it)
She will have to deal with it.

She shrugs off the insecurities before they overwhelm her
(Ok you can do this.)
Reaches into the deep well of her consciousness and stands up straight
Steels her nerves with resolve
Dons the chain mail of sophistication and poise
Slaps on the war-paint of glamour and icy regard
Straps on the shield of charm and the spear of intelligence.
She starts to exude that special quality that differentiates her
Her personality is bigger than the body that encases it
It bursts forth permeating her entire aura.

There is no need for a mirror
She knows she’s stunning.
She turns and wraps her self-confidence like a cloak
Sweeps the doors open and strides in majestically
The din of cheers and clamour of greetings is deafening
Her entrance is magnificent.

The doors shut behind her and all is quiet again.

Written July 2006