Deliverance [h.s.]

fifty-three | confetti

I wanna see you all on your knees, knees

You either wanna be with me or be me 

Maneater || Nelly Furtado 

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When I was little, I never much cared to play dress up.

While my classmates and peers played pretend, fantasizing a fairytale life where they're heroically saved by their knight in shining armor, I was busy trying to save myself.

Even if I wanted to, I never had dresses or the little plastic heels girls my age would strut around in like they weren't moments away from breaking their ankle.

As I got older, the mentality stuck. My closet was as bland as my mindset, one-track-simple-minded chic. I read somewhere once that every 'adult woman' should have a staple piece, an elegant dress to signify their maturity and femininity. I didn't think much of it for awhile, but before i turned 22 i saw it; the dress.

I was in love the moment my eyes fell on it but I couldn't justify its price when I knew, reasonably, I would never have a time or place to wear it. It was the only one in my size, the last on the rack, which felt like an undeniable fate but still; I couldn't do it. For months I passed by it, telling myself 'if its here next time, i'll buy it'.

It went on and on until finally, on my 22nd birthday, I got it. Not because it was the responsible thing to do, because surely it was not, but I got it because it felt like the mature thing to do. I have a fancy dress that showed my 'adult' body, what's more mature than that?

I'll tell you what's more mature; having somewhere to actually fucking wear it. Which up until today, has not happened. Since my 22nd birthday it has hung neatly in my closet, tucked safe within its clothing protector but now, right now, it is on full display in front of me, removed from its case as it hung from the small hook on my wall.

I've been staring at it for at least five minutes, too scared to put it on. Scared i'll ruin it, i'll rip it. Scared Harry won't appreciate it in the way I hope he will. Scared it won't live up to my expectations. I've saved it as one of my last steps, trying to avoid it until it was inevitable.

I pulled my eyes away, turning to my dresser where my jewelry sat neatly. I dragged my fingertips across the dainty silver pieces, starting with the threaded earrings that hang with a single while pearl from the end of it. I pulled them through my ears, adjusting them to matching length before picking up the matching necklace from beside where they laid. Blindly, I clasped the necklace behind me, laying the pearl flat on my chest once it was secure.

My eyes fell to my rings, and for a brief moment I debated wearing them as if putting them on me for this event would make me less elegant but the truth is; it wouldn't make me less 'elegant', it would just make me less of myself.

Decidedly, I slipped on the rings, stopping for just a moment to admire the dainty oval piece of silver; a single peony stamped in the center. I brought it to my lips, giving it a quick kiss of encouragement before placing it on with a satisfied huff.

My eyes shifted to my left, catching the view of the white rose placed alone in its own vase on my dresser. I leaned forward, closing my eyes with a simple smile as I breathed in the soft scent. I inhaled a boost of confidence, finally working up the courage to put the dress on.

I grabbed the hanger off of the hook, sliding the straps off of the satin puff hanger so the dress was finally held in my free grip for the first time since I brought it home.