Insecurities

One drink wasn’t enough. She had it down to a science. Two shots of tequila and she could talk, laugh and fit in.

She should do one shot, at least, before leaving the house but she barely ever drank and didn’t think to keep liquor in her cabinet. So she had shown up stone, cold sober and full of social anxiety. She sat in the car, acutely aware of the roundness in her belly and face, the stringyness of her flat lifeless hair and the inapropriateness of her outfit.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, more loudly than usual, “Becca, you’d be so pretty if you lost just ten pounds… Becca, lay off the birthday cake, you’re fat enough… Ugh Becca, are you really wearing that? What’s happening with your hair?”

She pulled down her visor and opened the mirror. The little light clicked on illuminating her face. A pair of smudged, forlorn eyes stared back accusingly, “You already fucked up your makeup. Can’t you do anything right?”

She sighed. Her friends were waiting in the bar but she was sure they weren’t waiting for her. She doubted if they’d notice she didn’t show. She started the car, put it in gear and… Almost left.

Her phone dinged. She considered ignoring it… And then she didn’t. She stopped and cut the engine. What the fuck was wrong with her. Her mother’s voice tried to answer, “Well, Becca, it’s…”

“No! Get out of my head. You are not welcome anymore, Mom! Go!!!”

Silence. “Good enough for you,” she thought, picking up her phone. The message read: Stop having a meltdown and get in here. We’re your friends. Cut the crap. I have two shots waiting.

She texted back: Ok. Be right there.

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge July 2019, Ravishing the Romance Day 15 “Insecurities”