“Confidence Cayla, confidence.” I sucked in a large amount of air, “I can do this. I just have to be calm.” My eyes continued to stray to the clock, subtlety eyeing it, noting the time. “8:39,” I said, “8:39 which means 1 more minute until he comes.” I slowly stood up, walking to my mirror, looking at myself, and examining my outfit. I smoothed out the creases in my dress. I turned my head to the side, and looked softly at it. It was strapless and white, with intricate beading, starting heavy at the bottom, and lighting as it rose. The beads were an almost translucent, with a little cream tint. They were baby blue, and white beads, mixed at random, but perfectly blended. I wore ivory bangles with cream studs and a silver ring on my right hand. My hair was in a side-swept bun with loose curls hanging out.
This night had been nothing like I had imagined. When I had pictured this night as a little girl, I saw my self looking perfect, not having to wait, being calm and relaxed. I never imagined that waiting for him to come and pick me up for prom, would be so scary. In my mind I had been on many dates before, this not being my first. With the nerves combined from first date jitters, and prom date shakes, I was so anxious I could jump out of my skin. I sat on my bed and laid down. I stared at the ceiling envisioning my night.
I would dance gracefully on the floor, with complete assurance in myself and my feet would follow. My face would be flawless, my body would be perfectly behaved. Then, the true night came into sight. My body would be perspiring beyond control, my makeup would practically melt off, and I would trip several times. Conversations would be awkward, and people would be aggressive. None the less, the night would be fantastic, one to remember.
I heard the soft sound, of tires in my drive way, and popped up to look out the window. Headlights came into sight, and my house was drenched with light. I looked into the mirror and I primped once more. I stared into the mirror and my face dropped. For this one moment, I actually looked at myself. I looked sad. Which was odd, because I was not typically and unhappy person.
Unexpectedly, and idea lightly grazed my mind, what if, Connor didn’t care about my dress. Or my hair, or makeup. Isn’t that why he liked me after all? Because I was genuine and real? Maybe if I tried displaying my beauty, amongst my happiness, things would be more enjoyable.
“Cayla! Connor is here!” my mother yelled. I looked at myself once more, with a different mindset, but this time, I thought I actually saw my inner bueaty. I headed out of my room and stood at the top of the stairs. A few more steps, and my life would have a new memory to own. I took one step, and Connor’s face came into view.
Later that night, Connor had told me, the minute I stepped out of my room, my face exuded gold, and that he thought I looked like an angel with my white dress. That, he had to brace himself, and make sure he didn’t fall over. He said that if he could relive one night, it would be that one. And that he would do it with me.
And, thankful I wasn’t one of those girls, sitting in her room listening to Taylor Swift eating Oreos all night. At least, I wasn’t anymore. Connor had made me feel like I could fly. And, he made me, that girl. You know, the one who everyone thinks is weird, and then one day she wakes up and finds herself to be the luckiest girl the world. Then, she really does have it all…
The truth was that, on that night, I had discovered my beauty. Taking those few steps. Women are capable of anything, and should never need a boy to make them feel pretty. Nothing should truly define us except history, the things we will do, the things we won’t, and everything in-between. But the truth is, on that night, when I had made eye contact with Connor, I found that he had looked at me the way I always wanted: like I was truly beautiful.