Last night I dreamt I wore a dress made of receipts.
Well, one receipt specifically.
To somewhere like target or bath & body works
Where there's another paper stapled to the receipt
That leads to a website for a survey we both know I won't be taking.
So what if I don't get that free hand sanitizer? A girl's got stuff to do.
I wore the receipt like a toga, the staple holding the front and back together over my shoulder, my sides exposed.
I was alone. It was dark and I was at a carnival of sorts. Then it was completely black.
A man that I'd never seen before walked past me and stopped.
He stared for a moment then caressed my cheek.
He was handsome and vaguely familiar. But I couldn't place him.
All I could think about was how my receipt dress looked to him, and I lowered my head to stare at myself.
What did he think of the thin paper?
The exposed sides?
What did he think of my body under there?
Was this stranger attracted to me?
Was he a threat?
I raised my arms in front of my chest to protect myself from this man, but when I looked up, he'd vanished.
I'd lost out on the opportunity for a stranger to stare at my body for uncomfortably long, and I was disappointed.
We women cloak ourselves in receipts and shopping bags, and call it confidence.
We allow men to stare at us like a turkey he may want to carve, and call it flattery.
We wear next to nothing and then worry about how we are perceived, calling it style.
But where do we put our love?
There's no line at the bottom of a receipt for a website I can visit and learn how to demand positive attention.
There's no store that sells hope or faith.
You can't pick up peace in the makeup isle.
You can't bottle fulfillment.
Where is my mother supposed to find love for herself if it's not right next to the wrinkle creams?
Where do my friends learn self respect if it's not plastered on the wall near the condoms.
We Americans have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
But you cannot pursue your happiness if you're shackled to a Victoria's Secret bag.
Undo your bindings.
Fold your receipt into a paper airplane and let it soar.
Paint your naked body your own colors, and dance in the sun.
We are goddesses in our own right.
No one can sell it to you, it's something you were born with.
Trap yourself no longer, and be free from this world of false first impressions and full-length misgivings.
Do not give in. Do not give in.
The sun will always burn above for those who are willing to celebrate under it.
People will try to shine the light you love directly into your eyes.
They will mock you, beat you, steal from you.
They will break your legs and bind you.
But you are wonderfully stubborn enough to continue dancing.
You are strong enough to keep your chin parallel with the horizon, and smile beyond all odds.
You don't need a receipt to tell you you're beautiful beyond measure.
You can do that all by yourself.