She stands in front the mirror:
Hair, total mess.
Face, bare and patchy.
Floor-length dress.

It’s really not her colour.
She’s worried it will cling,
that you will spot two dimpled thighs
or glimpse a bingo wing.

Out comes the iPhone.
Selfie without smile.
A snap to show “how far’s to go”
for her to feel worthwhile.

Eight weeks later
and nothing major’s changed,
but now it’s not about her;
it’s someone else’s day.

It happens in an instant. It becomes the thing that lasts…

Joy takes over.
Mirrors show some tact.
The last thing on her mind
is the label on her back.

She stands beside her soul mates:
Hair, let down.
Face, bright and beaming.
Stunning pink gown.

She sees herself through his eyes, too,
her confidence soars up.
No more inches, pounds, self-doubt –
she’ll dress herself in love.