Getting Dressed

I put on a dress.

Turn once, twice in the mirror,

inspect my ass, my legs, my breasts.

I look myself in the eyes,

smile,

comfortable with my pieces

and the way they fit

together,

satisfied,

with how I have learned

to carry myself

lovingly,

deliberately,

and with pride.

Then, I imagine

walking outside.

Disjointed voices.

Crawling eyes.

I take off the dress.

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