It was the white trousers. I had put them on in the morning with such pride - a size smaller than I'd been wearing for years. I'd customized the festival t-shirt as well - trying to look original. Honestly, it did look good and, unlike most of the other times I'd thought this, I was confident I wasn't fooling myself. My hair was doing the right thing for once and I turned up to do my shift hoping I would turn heads.
I walked up to the staff office to clock on and get my I.D pass. One of the girls behind the desk (always perfectly turned out) actually did a double take and deigned to comment on how great I'd made the t-shirt look. I flicked my hair and said a cool, "Thanks," like it was just an every day thing. Still smiling at her I bent to write my name on the log when I felt a brush of lips on my exposed shoulder and stared into the brown eyes of one of the competitors. He was handsome but I wasn't about to play the part of a blushing teenager and I raised my eyebrow at his impertinence and flounced off. I couldn't deny, though, that he'd made me feel good. It had created a fluttery feeling in my stomach.
As I walked down the track towards my stand, a handful of men, the bloom of exertion on their cheeks and the sheen of water still on their hair, strode to pass me. Normally, I'd have been self-conscious and would have studiously ignored them; this time I was going to meet them eye-to-eye. It was then that I felt the sharp pain in my lower abdomen and the bud of wetness seep from between my legs. The jolt of horror must have shown on my face as they covered the remaining distance between us and stared full at me, while the fan of scarlet threaded its way across the pristine front of my pure, white trousers.
Time up.
Inspiration tonight:
is thanks again to the Write Practice website.
'Write for fifteen minutes about a something that really happened to you, without revealing any of the people or places involved. Try to keep all other details the same.'
I've been posting in their comments section and getting feedback, which is nice but that challenge was not comfortable for me. I clearly don't do well in the first person. All my creativity went.
I walked up to the staff office to clock on and get my I.D pass. One of the girls behind the desk (always perfectly turned out) actually did a double take and deigned to comment on how great I'd made the t-shirt look. I flicked my hair and said a cool, "Thanks," like it was just an every day thing. Still smiling at her I bent to write my name on the log when I felt a brush of lips on my exposed shoulder and stared into the brown eyes of one of the competitors. He was handsome but I wasn't about to play the part of a blushing teenager and I raised my eyebrow at his impertinence and flounced off. I couldn't deny, though, that he'd made me feel good. It had created a fluttery feeling in my stomach.
As I walked down the track towards my stand, a handful of men, the bloom of exertion on their cheeks and the sheen of water still on their hair, strode to pass me. Normally, I'd have been self-conscious and would have studiously ignored them; this time I was going to meet them eye-to-eye. It was then that I felt the sharp pain in my lower abdomen and the bud of wetness seep from between my legs. The jolt of horror must have shown on my face as they covered the remaining distance between us and stared full at me, while the fan of scarlet threaded its way across the pristine front of my pure, white trousers.
Time up.
Inspiration tonight:
is thanks again to the Write Practice website.
'Write for fifteen minutes about a something that really happened to you, without revealing any of the people or places involved. Try to keep all other details the same.'
I've been posting in their comments section and getting feedback, which is nice but that challenge was not comfortable for me. I clearly don't do well in the first person. All my creativity went.
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I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.