Fierce!

One of those power days. You wake up feeling psyched as your tummy butterflies can be. Pants, shirt, three-inch heels. Fierce. Great. Check the mirror. Heels make you so awful tall, your face is chopped off somewhere in the middle. Still, the reflection shows a happy uptwitched grin. Tottering in them a wee bit, a strange vertigo you may call it. But its ok, aint no high heels high enough.


Ok. Time to go! Feels shiok. Click down three steps of the stairs, ankle twists at the fourth, panic, grab railings, too-bad-your-fingers-missed, half-fly-half-gallop down the remaining four steps, crash into the wall, palms smack straight in double fives. Luckily-my-pants-didnt-split. Fierce.


Ankle pain, hand pain. Hobble up 8 steps, open the door, change to flats. Check mirror. This time can see the whole pissed face. Happy 5 minutes of breathing the high air. Shorter by three inch, Nonetheless! Still FIERCE. ;)


off tangent:
i think small facial moles are nice. As in One-Singular-Little-Hairless-Mole on the side of the mouth or near the brow.