of rituals

 You’re getting dressed for work, trying to carefully select the earrings you’re going to wear today. You want them to be just perfect. It’s become something of a ritual ever since you moved in with the boyfriend. Every morning you wake up hoping that you will have become a beautiful person, but of course you haven’t and then you’ve to resort to dressing up some more to disguise the ugliness.

It usually doesn’t take you this long, but today you’re just standing there staring at yourself in the mirror feeling (strangely) beautiful and ugly at the same time. You’re obviously happy he proposed but are still wondering why he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. You’re definitely heady with delight, but also sullen and insecure at some level. You’re not sure if your marriage will last even two minutes, given your past records.

What about all your secrets? What about your blog?

It’s true that you would feel somewhat relieved if he knew. You don’t want to have secrets from him; you’re afraid that keeping secrets will make your life more unspeakable. You don’t want to be like that anymore.

No more secrets. You say that out loud, as though saying it like that will ease the burden.

Just then he walks in and says, If you’re wondering whether to tell me about your blog, don’t bother. I know.

Suddenly you feel bare. You didn’t even realize that you had your secrets wrapped around you like a warm shawl. And now that they are gone, you’re cold because you’re worried he now sees you as you really are.

That’s just as well. You snap the jewelry box shut. You no longer need the earrings.

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Blogger. Crazy bitch. Stalkee. Weirdo magnet. Wannabe housewife. Corporate Slave. Find me at anawnimiss.wordpress.com!

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