Silver

Untitled Part 1

My lonely footsteps echoed through the streets as I stalked through the dark, one destination in mind. Forcing my hood further over my face, my eyes rapidly analysed the area, contempt with the lack of human presence I stepped through the thick black doors.

Pacing myself down the corridor I took a sharp turn left into my dressing room, huge posters of my face plastered the room like wallpaper, pictures of me on stage before my surgery, pictures with long thick golden hair and beautifully tanned, exposed legs. Sitting in the chair opposite to my vanity mirror, I sighed, not daring to look up. I fear many things in this universe. The dark, spiders, small spaces, clowns, heights... Fear being the human's innate mechanism of dealing with a stimulus of which the brain perceives as a threat. I traced my features in the mirror slowly, stopping at my eyes. If the above is true, why most of all do I fear myself?

Raising my hand I tenderly stroked one of the brunette wigs that had been set out for me to wear on stage for my 'glorious return' to the industry of performing arts. The silicone breast fillers sat in a grey box ready to slip into my dress, the dull translucency of the implants held little appeal as I dreaded the feeling of the cold plastic against my bare chest.

Removing my hood from over my hairless head I got to work on my face, picking up a tanned foundation to help hide me from today's scrutiny, then I halted. Why should I have to alter my face to look more like everyone else? How much makeup is too much makeup? Is there even such a thing as too much makeup? Dropping my brushes in exasperation I decided I needed to think. My face is no longer one I'm proud of; my skin is far too pale now. My hair is no longer even a thing, my body – once worshipped, now a vessel to house my insecurities. Where my breasts should have lied there was nothing but two large jagged scars. Thank you cancer, for making me ugly.

Getting up I noticed a pink envelope, lightly scented with musk, lying where i had just sat. Picking it up and taking a seat once more, I slid a thin finger under the seal breaking it and pulling out a pink letter. I scanned the sheet as tears slowly formed in the corners of my eyes, threatening to cascade onto my cheeks like rivers of emotion. Setting the sheet down I gently whipped my eyes, raised my chin, determined and got to work on my face.

'You're beautiful' I reread as I applied silver glitter to my eyelids aiming not only to dazzle the audience, but myself. 'Don't allow yourself to feel inferior in any way based off of aesthetical appeal' I read as I worked my winged eye liner with a thick, bold, black shade. 'Regardless of how you may perceive yourself, to me you were, are, and always will be perfect' I skimmed, the corners of my mouth turning upwards as I painted a delicate nude shade onto my round lips. 'I love you.' I read as a huge grin penetrated my face.

Half an hour later I stood, analysing my body, the scrutiny of my gaze no longer harsh and punishing, but accepting and grateful. Shoulders back, I admired the dress moulded against my body, accentuating my hips. The silver sequins glistened in the low dressing room light like stars in the night sky, drawing attention to my breastlessness, the silicone packs now in the trash can, along with the idea that I need a large chest to be attractive. The silver on my collar bones and cheeks highlighted my pale skin. My eyes twinkled green, like emeralds, shaded under the thickness of my false lashes. My head still bare, and staying that way.

I stood tall, I felt... beautiful. Which meant that I was beautiful. Beautiful within my own standards, and therefore within the standards of every other individual within my path, because the subjectivity of beauty is in itself a blessing. The confidence I had built within myself was all that I needed to happily stride into the spotlight, without self-love, the only obstacle was myself. Sometimes it only takes one person to change your whole perception of yourself, thanks to that note I felt renewed courage. I opened my dresser door and peered out; my agent stood waiting, took in my appearance, mouth agape, then shot me a thumbs up.

Whilst being escorted to the stage the feeling of adrenaline took over every nerve within my body, still grinning I took excited strides, because within that moment I was a warrior, a survivor. My internal beauty and self-belief had led to a radiance being exude on the outside, mirroring the explosion within. External beauty is a constant, it's a given, everyone is found beautiful in their individual way, but what determines a true beauty from a false beauty is how they feel within themselves.

Standing alone behind the curtains, specks of glitter danced around me, giving me all the more belief that tonight would be truly magical. The clank of metal rung through my ears as the curtains began to lift, taking a bold step into the light I gave a dazzling smile and prepared to sing my story.