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Two-Piece of Courage

Lessons From a Red Balloon

By April ChavezPublished 2 years ago 3 min read
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Two-Piece of Courage
Photo by Chad Montano on Unsplash

Two Piece of courage

It was Saturday, she was fierce, eager, multitastic, energetic, but most of all, she was ready. Though she didn't start that way, it took her thirty minutes and a pair of scissors to disclose her handmade makeshift shaw. White polyester to be exact, queen-sized, and sexy, wrapping around her body like high-end mink. Practically impossible, but that is exactly what makes this story interesting, hot girl summer, the biggest beach party since Trent house in 1986. Was it her fault that on the biggest day of summer she just so happened to be a victim of theft, gone, eighty-sixth, nowhere to be found. Her beach bag disappeared like hot cakes on Sunday.

You ever hear that saying, two peas in a pod don't always come from the same shell? What is right for one person could be a complete disaster for another. Kay. Her girl Kay, ace of spades, right hand, her very best friend with good intentions. It was already10 o'clock, one too many shots had been drunk, the moon settled in the far east, bright, luminescing like street lights in a gang-filled neighborhood, gleaming from corner to corner. Kay did what any super fly ride or die, BFF would do given the same situation. She pulled it out of her bag, all black with yellow polka dot strings, she’s face was stuck, with panic attack written all over it. “Girl, I can't wear that, look at how big I am, my rolls will roll and fold all over that two-piece.”

“Salute,” they bumped their glasses together one more time. She inhaled like she was something other than a young woman, she was a red balloon, her inhale was its exhale, it was loud and very clear. Thank goodness for polyester, that was the first thought that popped into she’s head when she checked her frame in the wall mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. “I told you bitch, roll and fold,” she sighed as she turned from one side to the other. Thank goodness Kay's bag was a treasure box hiding many secrets, she slide the next garment from the tote and immediately got to work. As easy as slicing a stream of salt, two circles fell to the floor, flawless wrist-sized holes were made. It fit perfectly, the collar tucked inward, leaving the rest to hang below her shoulders. Her legs shinned like silk through white layers of crinkled fabric. Her fist sat loosely against her navel, keeping the unique design in place.

One last look, satisfied. They walked out of the restroom with their heads held high, Kay was slim and in shape, she did not need the extra encouragement or a second glance, she already knew. Fine, fine, hot girl summer was a go. She's flip-flops touched the back of her heels with every gliding stride. It was like she was walking on air, she felt good, confidence radiated from her like the aroma of freshly baked apple pie right out of grandma's oven. “Hmm,” what a drag, Debbie downer, twenty-something-year-olds and their stupid, obvious blind idea of making themselves feel better in exchange for the attempt at snatching tenacity from another. “Aye, she, did you leave these in the bathroom? Hahahahaha, fuck.” The young man held up two white polyester circles, for no reason at all he took it upon himself to go into the unisex bathroom, dig in the trash and pull them out. “Hahahhaha, is that a bedsheet, what the fuck.” On blast, with every listening ear and an open eye on her. What could she do? What could she say? There was only one option, she swung that bedsheet from her clenched hand, wrapped both hands behind her back, poked out her chest allowing every roll, every stretch mark to be free, revealing every inch of chubby madness. “Yeah, you like it, I call it white stallion,” she rode that wave with her head held high to the edge of the shore. Grace and elegance kept her high ponytail at the top of her head, swaying from left to right down the middle of her back.

Sure she could have froze, put her head down, allowed low self-esteem's minion to pull her into his pit of hate, but instead, she smiled with contentment, peace, and a little bit of joy as her bright orange polish skinny-dipped with pride. She was happy, she was me.

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About the Creator

April Chavez

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