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AFTER RETOUCHING MY SMEARED MAKEUP and changing my hairstyle into a high ponytail , I now stood alone in the closet as Valentino left to make a quick call to God knows who. I study my second outfit choice in the large mirror. I didn't know where Val was taking us or what type of atmosphere to expect, so I picked out a white ribbed playsuit that was both casual and classy. I slowly rotate my body to each side to check that the playsuit was flattering and fitted; highlighting my hips and really emphasising my body's form not to mention it makes the baby bump look cute.
I now take a straight stance with my head cocked to the side as I progressively assess my look in the mirror and realise that the outfit is missing something. After a sudden flash of insight, I chose to add a grey blazer, realising that it would truly complete the look. I step away from the mirror and make my way over to my side of the closet. I push through the glass doors and rummage through my coat hangers for the blazer.
"Dios mío, sé que tengo un blazer gris en alguna parte, ¿dónde está?" (Oh my god, I know I have a grey blazer somewhere, so where is it?) I mutter to myself, as I start to get impatient, as I continue to flip through the absurd number of coats I have.
A person really doesn't need this many coats, but will I ever stop buying them? Not at all.
I kept pushing each hanger firmly while carefully inspecting anything that seemed to match what I was looking for. Eventually, after a few more hangers are moved, my hand comes to rest on the blazer. Carefully removing the jacket off the hanger and shutting the wardrobe door. I swiftly put on the blazer after exhaling a breath of relief and reach up to grab one of my bags from the shelf above my coats.
Standing on my tiptoes, I snag my white Bottega purse, which has a gold chain. I immediately pack everything into the bag, then proceed to the lowest shelf of my closet on the right, where my shoes are stored. I hurriedly grabbed my white Air Force ones and slipped them on my feet.
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I quickly scan the clock on the right wall of the room where I'm standing. I see the time is '7:40pm'. "Fuck shit fuck," I mumble to myself, knowing that he hates being late, but I quickly shake the notion out of my head since I did have a mini breakdown. He can't be totally uncaring, can he?
