The men all had that same greedy look in their eyes, except for him. It was different. Vastly different. It looked like adoration or maybe I was just mistaking it for lust, I always seemed to do that.
My hands were still tangled in the strands...
A reflective surface is so daunting for many reasons. It can show so many possibilities of your life's aspect that you don't regularly see. How you look in the mirror isn't how you look to others. You could think that you were the most unlovely thing to man-kind and the person next to you would see you as the most beautiful.
They change things; change perspectives. In our everyday lives we use one. To do makeup, hair, skincare, outfit changes, etc. Our features change everyday, from the way our hair lays, to how high our eyeliner is, or what patterned shirt we decide to wear. So why doesn't our view on ourselves change as well? To me, some days, I'm the most daintiest thing to walk the halls but then nights, I'm the walking Devil herself. Day by day, my view changes on myself.
Whether it's from my own mind or the words of another, it changes.
But that's the fun of it all, being able to change. My hair color can change so simply with the placement of a wig or the twirl of an curling iron. My eyes change every day from different placements and different colors. Some days I have blemishes, some days I don't, and it's all up to your mind and body. Most days I'm feeling cheerful so I opt for a fun eyeshadow color like pink.
But not today; today was black. As black as the night sky once the clock hits 3 AM.
A wig laid on my head; a long blonde one that reached all the way to my hips. Clay red; the color of my lips that don't dare touch another unless for a showing of "love". The color of snake skin, the one of Medusa, covered my body draping it all over dark green.
I thought I looked beautiful; truly I did. But Ira thought differently. He's always hated whenever my hair was darker he preferred it lighter for some odd reason. And he hated the dress; he hated all of my clothes.
But he was the reason for who I am today, he helped shaped me. Helped shaped me to be the ideal women to the average male. Although I might not visually be ideal for him I was to any other male who walked into the club and that earned us money. Money we spent luxuriously and freely with no price at all.
I'd love to believe deep down Ira thought I was beautiful but until the day he's said it to my face there's no shape or form of me seeing it.
"Let's go, we're already late." Despite hating all of my clothing choices as well, whenever it was date night he was always prominent on matching. Not directly matching but corresponding mainly, where the colors didn't clash but rather went together. So whenever I wore dark; he wore dark. I wore light; he wore light. It's always been a thing and will continue to be.
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