The Ritual

She languidly awakens from her slumber. The peacock-shaped alarm clock shows its hand at 6 and 20. Her mouth opens to a yawn. Sitting on her silk pink sheets, she ponders on her evening ahead. She glances into the closet filled with clothes. Her black lacy bra strewn on a pile of dirty socks. Her stockings hanging from the hanger half hung on the shelf. Her favorite Sailor Moon t-shirt hung neatly in the back of her closet. Arising, she unhurriedly chooses the A-line plaid skirt that falls exactly 1 inch above her knees, the silk cream colored v-neck sleeveless shirt that accentuates her bosom, and the caramel colored jacket to top her outfit. She rummages through her underwear drawer and pulls out her crimson red thong. She frowns, and instead chooses the blue hip hugger panty from Victoria’s Secret.

She shakes her hair out and musses with the tresses that fall around her shoulder. Sitting on the edge of the old-fashioned bathtub with the hooves that remind her of tales long gone, she meticulously applies the first layer of make-up to her face. The foundation easily hides the flaws. The lip liner follows the shape of her dainty mouth and fills the crevices that hide in the lips. She opens her eyes wide to create illusion. The warm fall colors love her eyes and give her a depth of innocence. She grabs her newest lipstick color, emerald red, and applies a layer to her lips, not forgetting to dab on some gloss to entice men. Mascara, check. Eyebrows, check. Blush, check. She hopes she doesn’t blush tonight. She’s an adult, after all.

Her lustrous hair, she saves for last. The dark-toned brown hairs amidst the highlights that dance in the light, she shapes into a wavy light feathered gathering. She smiles. Her hair is perfect. Just a little hairs pray, and the ensemble is complete.