Aanu Jide-Ojo: Beauty in the Scars (1)
The crowds deafening sound echoed through the hallway and seeped through into the dressing room where she was, seated in front of the mirror. She looked at herself. An onlooker would probably think she was trying to adjust her make-up or check if the hair style was right. If anything, her mind couldn’t be farther from that.
“Kitan, you should be out in ten minutes. Are you ready?”
She smiled and stood up.
As she always did when she was nervous, she patted down her skirt remove some invincible dust from it. She took a deep breath and looked at herself again. She looked beautiful in a red chiffon blouse, long sleeved, with a boat neck that showed off her collar bones, a looked she had always loved cos they made her look, feminine, sexier depending on who she was talking to. Her straight black skirt had a long sleep in front, and her black hair was packed in an Audrey Hepburn way that contrasted at the same time, accentuated the fairness of her skin, she was beautiful and she knew it. But still, that wasn’t what she was looking at.
Several images flashed before her eyes, a girl alone in the rain, with darkened knuckles, callused nails, well-worn blouse and a mini skirt that barely went past her hips. Her hair tangled, hung limply around her face, and her make-up jagged, smudged and running down her face. She shut her eyes and looked again, this time, she saw herself in a room, dimly lit steaming with smoke. The air was a mix of lavender perfumed oil that all the girls rubbed, Madame said once applied, the men were a given; alcohol, she didn’t drink, the damned thing was bitter but her childish face and petite figure, although voluptuous, made her seem too inexperienced. Some men liked that in her, most preferred women. With women came experience, intelligence-oh yes they read a lot and a kind of bravado that made the men less guilty about the time they spent here.
She was also beautiful back then; the Victoria Secret lingerie corset took her waist in, accentuating the hip and pushed her breast up into his face into all their faces. Yes she was beautiful, the way their eyes raved her body, the way their body responded to every touch on their arm, every caress, every silent whisper in their ear, every chuckle at their dry jokes,
Yes, she was beautiful.
She came back to herself, still staring at the mirror; a tear fell at the side of her face. This was her night, the night to inspire women to be all they could be, come out of the shadows of their men, and most importantly, to put their past where it belongs….in the past. But it was easier said than done, she saw herself as strong, successful-which she was, nothing could change that. It was a good thing she did, with good reasons, having to sell yourself for your family’s well-being was a good reason but now it all felt like a sham like she should have found her way out. Somehow all the lies she had told to cover up her past welled up within her, she felt like throwing up. It felt like every lie she told was coloured on her face making her feel for the first time…ugly.
“Kitan?” Shade, the manager called again.
“I’m ready” she whispered “I’m ready” she echoed even more loudly and pasted a smile on her face.
***
By Aanu Titilayo Jide-Ojo
For Shalom Truths Magazine (Maiden Edition)