He looked at himself in the full-length mirror of his room. He didn't recognize himself, but he liked himself a lot, too much, he thought to himself. It was carefully observed on both sides. He had done a good job. He deserved that day and because he was looking forward to it, eagerly, all year round. The blonde wig, with those magical curls of natural hair, the very black mascara on the eyelashes, blush blush right on the cheeks, red lipstick, navy blue contact lenses, jet black suit and notched, black fishnet stockings, red garters, matching underwear and eight-centimetre needle shoes with heels.
For a few days he left behind that person who never wanted to be and who, for a few days, kept in the closet, to take out the woman who always carried inside, the woman he wanted to be, but who did not dare to be because that meant breaking, in a thousand pieces, the rigid structure of the world that he knew and that maintained his family.
So she went out into the street, ready to eat the world and anything else that came before her.
Carnival had finally arrived, where everything was possible for a few days.
For a few days he left behind that person who never wanted to be and who, for a few days, kept in the closet, to take out the woman who always carried inside, the woman he wanted to be, but who did not dare to be because that meant breaking, in a thousand pieces, the rigid structure of the world that he knew and that maintained his family.
So she went out into the street, ready to eat the world and anything else that came before her.
Carnival had finally arrived, where everything was possible for a few days.
Image source: Pixabay
