Exhibit C

"You shouldn't wear that." A cold hand lays on your shoulder and you blink at yourself in the mirror, not at the person behind you. "It doesn't fit like you want it to." You think you look great, but you begin to take it off, knowing it's not worth another fight. The discarded clothing item joins the growing pile in the corner. You have labeled it Exhibit C, Pile Of Things I Cannot Wear. It sits beside Exhibit B, Things People Don't Want to Hear, and Exhibit A, Dreams Of Mine No One Believed In. You sigh and sink back in to your armchair, the one that sits in the corner of your closet. All you want to do is wear something nice to go out with your friends for a bit tonight, but there's something, rather someone who doesn't think you look so hot. It's not you. You know you look good. Or you would, if you weren't so {fill in idea of a standard in cultural beauty ideals you don't quite match.} You glance at Exhibit C and frown, wondering if the world would really explode if you grabbed what you wanted and ran. It's your closet, after all. Why should you listen to anyone but yourself? Well. Maybe their voice is louder because they're hiding everywhere you turn. In the media, the magazines, the billboards, in the eyes of your carefully calculating friends... yeah, everywhere.

"I think I look {like I want to.}"

That should be enough.

They don't think so. "No, you don't look like that! You look weird. Like a lumpy wumpy dump cake."

"No, I look fine."

"Right, because you changed your clothes. Now you're... passable."

You glare at the mirror. "They'll be here any minute."

"Who? Those friends of yours?"

"Yeah. My friends." You check your phone.

"They think you're ugly, though. They know I'm right."

"You're wrong."

"Then why do you listen to me?"

You stand up and walk out of the closet, headed downstairs to wait for your friends, but the disembodied beauty standards ghost follows you. "You know I'm right. That's why you listen, isn't it?"

"Would you shut up, please?"

"Nah, I won't."

You throw an arm pillow at them and they scurry under the couch. "I listen because I don't what else to do. One day though, one day I'll wear whatever I want and you won't do a thing about it. And if I want to, I will tell people I like {something people don't understand about you loving, like pickles or whatever. Doesn't have to be absurd, just maybe like a quirk, you know} and you won't do anything about it."

"Sure, sure."

You nod and smile, because you know it's true and they'll never see it coming. Your friends get to the door and you answer.

"Hey!" Your best friend says, slinging an arm around your shoulder and complimenting your outfit. You say thanks. You don't mention the fact that you spent all night planning a different one, then got scared and changed your mind and your clothes. You all walk to the car (either one of your friend's cars or one of their parent's cars, depending on your age) and start off for the best event in town. I don't know what it is. Could be a wine and paint night, an art festival, a taco tour where you eat a whole lot of tacos, salsa night at the dance hall... again, I have no clue. I'm just the narrator and you have the wheel, my friend. That's the whole point. You have the wheel.

Anyway, you're all driving to where you're going, as one typically does, and you start to think, man, your friends are all so attractive. You're not, I don't think, attracted to all of them, but you know they're pretty attractive in general, and you wonder what they think of you. Do they really think you're ugly, and if they do, do they like your other qualities? You bite your lips and sigh. It's no good thinking all that crap now. You told the confidence sucker to back off, and you don't see them around now, so you relax. You settle into the seat of the car and hum along with the songs playing on the radio.

"Hey, we're going to stop here for some snacks/drinks/socks/balloons/giant rubber erasers with witty catchphrases like whoops, you screwed up again! on them." Your friend, the one that came to get you from the door says. "Do you want anything?" You nod. You do indeed want something, even if you don't know why. You go inside the dollar store and stand around the aisles, pulling your mask/pants up. Or maybe both. Maybe you don't wear pants. Or a mask? You pull something up and continue to wander around. Lalalala, what do you want? You catch your reflection as you walk and smile broadly. For once, no one is there to clap you on the shoulders and say you're not enough. You are! And you think you know this. You smile, watching at the same time to make sure no one real is watching you, and touch your fingertips to the glass.

"There you are."

You whirl around and see someone who isn't really there, much like with the confidence sucking monster, but this one, this one is radiating peace. "What?" Your voice is low, you don't want anyone to hear you.

"I said, there you are."

"Mm, yes. Here I am. In Dollar Tree. Why are you talking to me?"

"You called, I showed up."

"Who are you?"

"I am the being that does not give a-" you jump to your own conclusions about the next words in your mind before the being can say, "single care about what anyone else thinks!"

"Oh. Huh."

"I have something for you."

"What's that?"

The being hands you Exhibit C in its whole glory. You grin wider. "You think I should wear something from this pile, you mean?"

"No! You think you should wear something from this pile. I am you, you are me."

"You're glowing, though."

The being, or you, you guess, has a sneaky, fantastic look in their eyes as they hand you another package.

"Um, glow sticks?"

"Yessss. Glow sticks."

"Oh." You pretend this makes sense. "Pretty."

"You know what to do, yeah?"

Several things run through your mind. You aren't sure what you're supposed to do, but you're pretty sure it's not {most ridiculous thing you thought of with glow sticks???}

"Maybe?"

"You'll figure it out."

You're alone again. You were technically alone the whole time, but oh well. That doesn't really matter. You wait until your friends are done buying whatever they came in for and then you buy your heavenly designated glow sticks. The outfit that, according to the confidence sucking monster aka self doubt, you should never ever wear out in public is sitting under your chair, and you think you may know what to do when you get where you're going. You hum a bit louder, sing along stronger even if you think you sound like a choking on pork chop llama donkey hybrid, you tell your friends you love them and when they ask you if you're okay you say yes. You're good, or at least you know you're on the road there in some ways. Tonight, you think, tonight may be only a start, but that's something and I will take it for everything it is.

The car pulls into the parking lot. Your friends are alight in their selves; stars, suns, moons, and galaxies of their own accord. Tonight, you will join their orbit.

"I'll catch up with you all. Got to run to the bathroom."

They nod and head in, or to a gazebo, if you're at the park for poetry reading/Shakespeare in the park/drive through theater/outdoor cosplay day/ hiking with bumblebee scouts day. You wave to the people you pass. They wave back if you're in a friendly place, threaten to pepper spray you and leave you for the rats if you're in New York City somewhere that's not.

You find the bathroom, but maybe it's a porta potty or a wooden outhouse if you're at one of those historical places where they still have those. You slip into whatever it is the mirror monster was telling you not to before.

That

Shirt with too many buttons

Shirt that's too low

Dress that twirls fast

Or shoes that walk slow

That

Suit that makes you smile

Belt that makes you sing

Yes you put on those earrings

And all the shiny things

The jeans that fit tight

Make you a pretty sight

For sore eyes

For four eyes

For eyes searching in the night and

You know you look good

You know you're so fine

You look at yourself and say

Hey, that's all mine

Bathing cap

Bathing suit

Bathrobe or jacket

Anything you want to wear

You know that I'll back it.

Bodycon dress yes

Boho chic check

Bow tie

Bow blouse

Choker wrapping round your neck.

Cummerband

Cufflinks

Crop top cravat

Wear what you want

Cause, honey,

You do be rocking that.

Double breasted style jacket

Drape front

Dressing gown

Duffel coat

Duster coat

For anything you could be down

Garter belt

Gaucho pants

All these clothes

You're in a trance

Because you look like all that and more

Kick those standards out the door.

You have suddenly become very good at rhyming, but that's also besides the point. Dressed in... whatever, you walk out to where your friends are and no one really notices you, but you don't care. You didn't dress up for them, after all. The event is starting. You sit down and feel for the glow sticks still in their wrapping. You go through the event, the party, the group date, the whatever feeling so pleased with yourself. Afterwards, when you get home, you sit back in your closet, still basking in the luminescence of your own presence. Before long, a familiar cold hand creeps across your back. You shake your head.

"Not today, Satan," you whisper, standing up to turn off the closet lights.

As you hear the self doubting voices begin to creep back, you snap a glow stick in half and watch it light up the otherwise dark space.

For every lie the voices tell you, you break one because you know that in the glow of the truth, no shadow mutterings stand a chance.

snap that, monster. :D