Last Dance
I make it to the mirror. Hours of work and months of excitement looked back at me. For a while, I reminisce, second-guessing if all of that work was a waste of time. Slowly, I wiped away that night; one prom left. Then what? From December to May, I dedicated my money and planning to the prom. For me, the buildup is the best part: buying the puzzle pieces of my outfit, the hair, and the makeup. Two weeks before prom, I start stressing, praying I don’t get sick, break out, or have a migraine. All of my planning needs to be worth it.
As I’m standing at my dimly lit mirror, wiping away my dedication, I wonder, did I do all that I could’ve? The glitter clings to my face like glue, stuck on by the sweat of that night. Its pearlescent shimmer reminds me of the anticipation. Slowly, I wash it all away, revealing stubborn flakes of sparkle around my eyes. My makeup was carefully crafted to match the cool-toned pearls and navy blue satin of my dress. A mixture of white, light blue, and an intoxicating water-like eyeshadow. An eyeshadow that looks like a reflection, not sweaty but wet. Its silver and pearl hues dance with the white underneath to create a fairytale effect. With each wipe, the pixie dust spreads across my face, reminding me of the night. The music, the dancing, the terrible food, this is what I live for, and for a moment, I feel like I am flying. Only temporarily. Then I remembered that I only had one left. One last excuse to go all out before wedding vows. I come down from the flight as my mind fills with dread.
Am I putting too much pressure on this one event? Probably. I barely remember anything past the joy I felt just before the dance. The feeling that everything worked out exactly as I wanted. The feeling that it wasn’t for nothing. My silver makeup reflected in the water-filled towel, creating a melancholy blue. The same blue that grey clouds make right after a good cry. My eyes start to close, deserving of rest after months of hard work. I lay down to sleep, still feeling the glitter clinging to my face. It doesn’t matter now, the night is over. I sigh with relief, feeling my eyes get watery, maybe from sadness or maybe from the scrubbing. The reflective disco will still be there when I wake up, which brings me peace. I toss and turn, destroying my white silk pillowcase. Finally, my mind begins to rest as I think of the color dress I want to wear next year. Maybe purple, or gold?
