Chaos begins the moment
we attempt to get ready:
dressing room packed to the brim,
stubborn baby hairs fighting against combs and hairspray,
lungs filling up with sickening sweet scents;
mirrors reflecting vibrant bottles,
lipstick cases, bold brushes, and lively blushes,
we apply the final touches to our make up:
white, brown, white,
golden glitter traces,
faces bright,
fake-lashed gazes;
skirts and hair pieces begin flying,
legs stretched across cluttered counters,
safety pins nipping at skin and skirts;
we stomp our way upstairs,
heavy gold earrings jingling,
the back of our heels
smacking the ground in unison;
shaking with excitement and nerves
we take our places behind
dark velvet curtains,
our flowing skirts held out,
our arms still,
our legs motionless,
awaiting the blinding lights
and the first musical note signals us
to commence.
--Marilyn L., 17
