Once upon a time, “that woman” seemed more comfortable with herself. Once upon a time, “that woman” appreciated a slimmer physique and relaxed into natural poses that felt less rehearsed. Once upon a time, “that woman” matched the path she had laid out for herself. Her closed eyes now threatened to open at any second, her tight skin bursting with the artificial flavors and toxins she had been assured were good for her. “That woman” had surrendered herself to anything that would make her path clear. “That woman” expected everyone to buy into the lies that she did. Her self-worth depended on it. So would mine.
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