FEEL

18. Latigo

Latigo ~ a dizzying sense of awe at the sheer scale of modern society.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

“People don't judge you just by how you look,” Breanna said to me the next day. “They also judge you by the energy you give off. You can be most beautiful person in the room, wearing the best clothes and have the best hair, but if you don't think you're beautiful, nobody else will, neither.”

We're at the mall, it's Saturday morning, shopping for only Breanna knows what. Luckily, Mr Pierce had me home by 4PM yesterday and I cooked for the tyrant who calls himself my father so as not to cause any trouble. Breanna came knocking on my door just this morning and told me to get dressed with the same urgency that firefighters dress to go put out a live fire

I follow her into one of the stores. “I don't mean to be crude, but you're not confident in yourself at all. And a woman needs her confidence. So, I'm going to teach you how to be confident.”

“You can't teach a feeling,” I challenge.

“Confidence is not a feeling, it's an expression. It's an action.”

We're in the underwear isle, I'm assuming she needs a new set, while she browses through the options. As I would have predicted, Breanna wears one of those lacy underwears that are nice to look at but not so nice to wear. She picks one up, holds it up towards me.

She asks, “What do you think?”

It's white, intricate rose patterns adorned around the lace and a bow at its front. “Looks good.”

“Great. You're taking it!”

I gape, “Me?!”

“Yes, you. Who else? You think that I wear underwear that are more than just string? This is way too innocent for me.”

I frown at the material in her hand. It does look appealing to the eye. It's my comfort I'm worried about.

Noticing my concern, Breanna reassures, “Don't worry. You get used to them.”

“I just don't get what this has to do with my confidence. Nobody sees my underwear but me.”

“Exactly!” Breanna exclaims. “Nobody sees it but you. Which is why, when you do see it, you should be looking at the sexiest thing you've ever set eyes on. All you ever wear is these bags of denim and cotton.” She gestures towards my saggy cargo pants and oversized T-shirt. “Which are cute, but you barely ever get to get a look at your sexy body.”

“People do that?”

“Women do that. Nobody else is going to tell you that your boobs are nice and your ass is perfect until you believe it, except for you. Which is why,” she grabs another underwear set, pink this time, and shoves it into my hands. My body is spun around until I'm looking at one of the mirrors in the store, pink lacy bra pressed against my clothed chest. “You need to go home after this, put on this itty-bitty naughty underwear, look at yourself in the mirror and see how fucking gorgeous you are and how flawless your body is.”

I smile at her through the reflection. Her strict demeanor falls away and she spares me a gentle grin as well, then grabs both my cheeks in her hands, squeezing them. “Look at that! Ugh, I swear to God, you're adorable, Aquila. And you have entirely no clue.”

“For what it's worth, I think your body is gorgeous, too.”

“I know it is. That's why I wore these shorts, because I know that I've got a bomb ass and all the ladies will be turning my way in envy and pure feminine pride.”