“Well unlike some people, I don’t need a prize to know my own worth, but I guess if your self-esteem is so low to begin with it’s the only thing that will work, albeit temporarily.” Clearly the vainglorious gesture was just a facade because no one actually did things so performatively. Well, there was Vivienne, but her daughter wasn’t exactly typical. “I watch. That’s what I do. I’m good at it, and I also get some vicarious joy out of seeing other people do what they love.” Oops, her voice slipped into sarcasm by the end, but that was only natural.
Her face darkened at the implication that the black was only to appear thinner. “No, other people can call themselves fat when really they’re a normal and healthy weight, but that will never be me.” She’d made that decision long ago, to let her body do whatever it did without judgment. Though when she did it, it wasn’t about self-love, as much as she wanted to prove how bad everyone else was at taking care of themselves. “I wear black because I look good in it.”
She tried to hold in her laughter but it came out as a snort anyway. “Nope, it was a perfectly choreographed trip. I may not dance professionally, but I could at least see that much. Who couldn’t, that’s the real enigma.”
The blonde scoffed, rolling her eyes at the woman before her because who did she even think she was? She wore all these fancy, depressing clothes with this sharp, defined haircut that so did not suit the shape of her face and just, what? Pretended she knew better? Used big, broad, pseudo-philosophical concepts of not needing a prize? This was just —— Sad. Well, not really sad. Frustrating would have been the exact word, but if Zinnia told herself that the dark-haired woman was sad, at least it was easier to pity her. Besides, anyone doing that to their hair would be upset on a daily basis. It came with looking in a mirror.
❝ Please. That’s the kind of thing losers
always say to make themselves feel better. Not
that it would surprise me, considering —— ❞
She waved vaguely, dramatically at the whole of Joanne’s appearance. She could be petty when she wanted to (unyielding, too. Headstrong. Always right).
❝ Anyone can watch. Your commenting, though, was
sloppy. And I really love dancing! ❞
It was not a defense, but a statement, something said with pride in face of utter, disgusting sarcasm. It still hurt somewhere deep inside of her that she’d never gotten a fair chance at it, that life had happened to her in the cruel way it happened to everyone and that now that she was married and had had kids, the best she could ever hope for were those amateur competitions. She wouldn’t trade her life for professional dancing, though (not now, anyway. Not since she’d met Harry and had gotten a comfortable life), but she felt she was well within her rights to feel offended no school had wanted her.
❝ Well black is the colour of sad, uptight
people but, oh well! If you’re saying you
look good in this, then I guess we all know
why.
Cheap shot. Zinnia was really proud of it, putting a hand on her hips as she let her pink lips curl into a smug expression that she willed to keep firmly on despite the comment on her Rumba.
❝ My Rumba was full of originality, unlike
the one of the winning couple. If you can’t
see that, then by all means, I’m sure my
dance partner would love to discuss his
choreography choice with you. ❞
This wouldn’t end well, though. Rudolpho hated negative comments on his choreography.