Falsehoods and Truths

It's never easy being the one whose feet ache after walking all day in
3-inch heels shopping for shoes. But the necessity to look good in the
shiny black boots overrides any pain I might be feeling. I'm not
exactly vain. I like to walk past mirrors and windows and sneak a peek
at my appearance. Is my hair windblown? Does my peacoat drape
elegantly over my lush curves? Do my sunglasses give me the air of a
haughty city girl?

Some days, I don't feel like slipping into my pink polka dot dress and
the pink heels that match. The monotony of putting on the verdent rose
colored lipstick and shaping my eyelashes with black mascara and my
eyes lids with eyeliner becomes unbearable. I sit on my bed
contemplating the silence of my gym clothes. Grabbing my grey sweat
pants and the mismatched purple shirt that says "New Kids on the
Block" on the back, I tie my scraggly hair back into a simple pony
tail and head out for coffee. It isn't long before I notice that few
pay attention to me. Few men or women. I have become invisible.
Blending in with the bituminous roads and the others who dress with
little care.