I make sure my spine is straight to further strengthen my stride. City walks can be of quite great length and longer legs means shorter walks, no? Shoulders- down and apart please! Chin- up please! Heels- high and eyes- stay casted low, please! I take leaps under the boiling sun and jump crumbling sidewalks parallel to bricks jutting out like staglamite, as if the entire ground is dissipating and falling behind me with each step I take. My face sweats bullets, but I'll just say it "glistens" and no matter what, my cheeks stay flushed berrygold. It's quite the color; I can swear to you that there is no drug store blush like it.
I make sure to listen to songs that lift me out of my place in space and time and drop my swinging, jiving legs in front of a big glowing mirror, which I like to call Vanity. Everyone could use a little narcissism in my book. When I land in front of this intangible mirror, I throw my arms in the air high, high up, only to encourage me to work on them, work is always needed and improvements can always be made. Back to reality, I taste my lower lip which I stained with rich framboise just before I spritzed a most feminine scent on my left protruding collar bone, utterly killing my natural pheromones. I strive to be a lady no matter what the circumstances, you know. A small dorm with paper-thin walls is no problem for me.
As I scan fellow pedestrians' faces that march past me, I pray that no one thinks that the color on my lips is so hilariously ridiculous that they rub it off. Afterall, I made it with my own raspberries and vaseline, with my own hands. To work so hard to be a genuine broad and be laughed at for it? Why, that would simply be a nightmare! My hair, my luscious curls, are soft and clean without any sticky product this time. The twisting ends graze my bony elbows, smelling their own seduction. Tough. Imaginary lace and flowers are intertwined about my waist, indeed praising but no, no, still not enough. The flowers are roses, and they leave a thin line pink residue on my waist, almost like a scar. I guess everyone has their way of letting me know where I need my physical improvements!
A grand part of being an admirable female is remaining mysterious of course. I make sure portions of social life are served upon a white stone plate, simple, small and scattered if there. Having a limited social life does have it'\s advantages, like more time to pamper myself with relaxation and a glass of wine. Who needs the risky web of friends and significant others anywway?
...But okay, I must come out with this..I have a secret...and here it goes: I dream of being so very different! I dream of letting go of these strict rituals and habits of being a lady! I dream of things I cannot even imagine doing! I want to hold a baby's silken hand one day as it lays on my chest. Yes, I want to be a mother! But with such grave solidarity as I experience, the idea serves as just a sad fantasy. Furthermore, I dream of conquering the street outside of the door labeled "industry" with such confidence I wouldn't even know I possesed if I ever did. Click! would go the bolts as I open the door and apply for a modern office-job. Oh how splendid it would be to be productive! To work hard and break actual sweat! I simply cannot fathom it...
From now on, I will make sure to grow and begin, I'll even call it a "do-over" in my life. Now I am quite optomistic! Before long, my painted white feet will walk through your open front door and out your back one leaving you thinking "She is ultimately, a deserving Woman."