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XXXVI. Shopping
Beauty.
What's the true meaning of beauty?
Your face? Your body? The way you carry yourself? The brand of clothes and shoes you wear? Your family background? Or the traits you possess that only a few people could see?
If only I could have all the answers.
“What's this all for?” Anna asked exasperatedly as she trudged behind me grumbling while complaining how merciless I am. I stopped in my tracks, looking back at her slouched form on a bench.
“I'm changing my whole wardrobe,” I said simply, rolling my eyes.
“Why? What's wrong with the clothes in your wardrobe?”
I almost choked on my spit. ‘What's wrong with my clothes?’ Everything. The clothes I wear don't scream classy, beauty, and sophistication. It screams workaholic, a wonk, and employee of the month. No one takes me seriously because when they saw my simple working clothes they saw a girl still struggling to make a name for herself.
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