𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔

two

"don't judge a situation you've never been in"

Mila and I walk into my house, and she heads straight for my room, her energy filling the space like an electric current.

She slightly jogs up my grand staircase and takes the nearest hallway on the left—leading us to my room.

"Okay, let's see what you've got!" she exclaims, throwing open the door to my walk-in closet, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror, pulling the hem of my oversized sweatshirt down as if it could hide me from my own insecurities.

My heart races at the thought of the party tonight. My body doesn't feel right; I can almost hear the whispers in my head telling me I won't look good enough.

Mila is tossing clothes aside, the sunlight streaming through my window illuminating her hair like a halo. "You have so many options! You need to wear something that shows off that amazing body of yours." Her voice is upbeat, but I catch the slight hint of jealousy in her tone as she flips through my clothes.

"Whatever. Just pick something," I reply, my tone dismissive as I avoid her gaze.

"Seriously? You're the star here! Let's do this right." She pulls out a tight black dress, holding it up to her body. "What about this? It would look stunning on you."

Reluctantly, I take the dress from her and slip into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, I pull it over my head, the fabric hugging my curves.

The dress fits snugly around my waist, and I can feel the fabric clinging to my hips. I look at myself, my reflection a mix of beauty and insecurity. My stomach twists at the sight—what if I look fat in this? I inhale deeply, trying to push the thought away.

I turn this way and that, analyzing every inch of my body. I don't see what Mila sees.

All I notice are the flaws—the way the dress slightly pinches at my waist, the way my thighs seem to bulge.

I wish I could just feel confident in my body for once, but the voice in my head keeps reminding me of the one thing I hate the most: I'll never be skinny enough.

I catch myself swallowing hard as the familiar urge hits me. I take a deep breath, staring at the mirror one last time. It feels suffocating, and I need to wash it all away. "I'm going to take a shower," I call to Mila.

"Okay! I'll be right here!" she replies, still rummaging through my clothes.

Once I'm in the bathroom, I turn on the shower, letting it heat up. But as the steam fills the room, I can't shake the anxiety gnawing at me.

The dress had me feeling both beautiful and ugly at the same time—a mix of wanting to shine and hide.

After a few minutes, the shower turns into a ritual I've grown all too familiar with.

I lean over the toilet, the cool porcelain a stark contrast to the warmth of the shower.

As I purge, a familiar relief washes over me, but it's laced with guilt. I know it's wrong, but at that moment, it feels like the only way to regain some control.

I stare at the water swirling down the toilet, feeling a mix of shame and a fleeting sense of release. I feel the rush of dizziness and nausea coursing through my body, the slight burning sensation in the back of my throat.

And then my day will continue like normal. Nothing ever happened anyways, I just felt a bit sick.

I quickly strip off my clothes and walk under the hot water, letting it give me a cooling burn.

When I finally step out of the shower, I dry off and wrap a towel around my body, feeling both refreshed and drained.

Emerging from the bathroom, I find Mila sprawled across my bed, a makeup bag spread open beside her.

She has her dress laid out on the couch in the corner of my room—a sparkly silk dress with a low V-cut. Her dirty blonde locks lay over her shoulder in loose curls, slightly shining in the vanity lights.

"You're going to love this! I've got all the stuff you need!" she says, her eyes lighting up when she sees me.

I try on the dress again, this time feeling slightly more comfortable as I let her pamper me.

Mila pulls out her favorite bronzer and swipes it across my cheeks. "You have to have some color! We need to bring out those cheekbones!" she exclaims, her enthusiasm contagious.

I sit on the edge of my bed, trying to relax as she works. She expertly blends the makeup, her hands steady as she enhances my features. "You have the most perfect skin, you know?" she adds, but I can't help but feel a twinge of unease.

"Thanks," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Now for the eyes," she says, reaching for a palette filled with vibrant colors. "Let's do something bold. You need to stand out tonight."

As she applies the makeup, I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror. The colors brighten my eyes, making them pop, but I still can't shake the feeling that something is off. "What do you think?" Mila asks, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

I take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Looks good."

"You're lying! You look amazing!" She grabs the bold red lipstick and holds it up triumphantly. "This is the final touch."

I take the lipstick, applying it to my lips with shaky hands. The color feels heavy, but it also feels like a mask I can wear to hide what I really feel inside. I look at myself one last time.

The girl in the mirror looks confident and beautiful, but I know it's just an illusion.

I stand from the vanity chair, taking one last look at myself in the mirror before walking to my bags. I grab my Prada nylon handbag, shoving the drugs I bought earlier inside for the party.

As I walk out, I see Mila's tall figure wrapped in her silk fabric.

"Ready to show them what you've got?" Mila asks, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Yeah," I say, trying to convince myself as much as her. I feel a knot in my stomach, a mixture of anticipation and dread.

The night ahead looms, full of expectations, laughter, and the gnawing fear that I won't measure up. As I unlock the door to my matte black Audi RS8, I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

"Let's go," I reply, even as the tightness in my chest remains. The night will be a blur of faces and music, but for now, I'll push the insecurities aside and pretend to be the confident girl everyone thinks I am.