Cupid

"What is love, because Baby I don't know."

How many shapewear can someone put on before it is classed as torture?

Lacey straightened her posture, taking in a shaky deep breath as she attempted to focus on standing upright. She almost choked on air and let out a breathy awkward cough, earning a judgmental glance from work colleagues gossiping near her. Her cheeks heated up in embarrassment as she smiled weakly at them, slouching slightly as if it would get her out of sight, which didn't help her breathing problem at all and she immediately straightened again. Maybe deep shallow breaths would be better?

It was not.

Now she just felt like she was hyperventilating in slow motion. Just dying quietly in the background as everyone in the company chit-chatted amongst themselves. Yup, she had definitely put on one too many shapewear. There was no doubt that she was breaking the Geneva Convention. Wait. Was she if her suffering was self inflicted?

Lacey stifled a groan, gently pulling the edges of the shapewear, hoping to stretch them out a little while making it look like she was only adjusting her dress. What made her past self think that this was a good idea? This was a terrible idea. She had already been self conscious about her hair and now she was worried about passing out. Or worse, the fabric gives out and she bursts the seams of her dress. Then everyone would laugh at her and how stupid she was to even try and contain her little extra flesh and do something new with her hair.

Her hair.

Shit.

She had completely forgotten about her hair.

Glancing around to check no one was paying her any attention, Lacey subtly opened the camera on her phone taking a quick look at her fresh hair do. She almost cancelled the hair appointment, the voice of her anxiety in the deep recess of her mind telling her a new haircut wasn't going to help and would be a waste of money. Now she was doubting herself again. Was it a waste of money? She shoved those thoughts aside with little slaps to her face.

A waiter walked by raising an eyebrow at her, most likely wondering why the hell this lady was slapping herself. Lacey stopped immediately after making eye contact, smiling awkwardly until he scurried away.

Why did she always have to make a fool of herself in front of people?

Since this was a special event, she wanted to go all out and treat herself to an expensive morning of getting ready. Like the makeovers she had seen in movies and TV shows. She had always dreamed of having one of those days. Hair. Nails. Shopping for a dress.

She woke up that morning feeling anxious, zoning out in front of the mirror as she brushed her teeth, worried people might think her efforts were weird or unnecessary. After a good thirty minutes of hyping herself up and pointing aggressively at her reflection, she put on her big girl panties and went to her early hair appointment.

Her best friend had also texted threatening to come over and physically drag her outside the house if she had to. He even sent a screenshot of him drinking a coffee from the cafe a little ways down the street. There was even a coffee in a takeaway cup ready for Lacey to take with her.

The Universe was shining in her favour when she got the most loveliest of hair stylists. In the past she had a hair stylist who made her feel small and self-conscious. Since then, she had been hesitant to get her hair done at a salon and chose to trim her hair herself.

With her hair stylist's encouragement and excitement, they ran with Lacey's bold decision to dye her usual dark brown, spiral curls, pastel pink. She had never coloured her hair before, so it was exciting. She felt like a new woman. Granted the colour change had dried her curls out a little bit and she would have to do a few oil treatments to get them back to their former glory but overall she loved it - especially how the colour made her olive skin glow. The stylist even cut her hair from mid back to shoulder length so the bouncy locks framed her heart shaped face perfectly.