Broken Dolls

Last night I attended a fashion show put on by a local DJ and radio personality to raise money for a scholarship fund in honor of his mother who was a teacher.  Rip the Runway Port City Edition.  It was a lot of fun.  It was great to see the community come together.  It was a very nice affair and everyone was beautifully dressed.  I arrived early enough to get a seat where I wanted, which was near the  aisle so I could see. I’m short.  Just before the show started a young lady (or so I thought) came and asked me if I was saving the two seats that were to my right.  I said no.  There was also an empty seat to my left which was right in the aisle.  “Can you slide over so that the three of us can sit together?”  I try to be nice and remember that I am a representative of the Most High God no matter where I go.  She wasn’t making it easy. “No, but I will move to the aisle seat and y’all can sit together.”  So I moved and they moved and all was well.  Or so I thought.  The trouble began when they went to get their drinks.  Let me back up.  These three young ladies, were stylishly and appropriately dressed.  Their hair and make up very nicely done.  They didn’t look much different from the other young ladies around me but there was one thing that made the three of them stand out.  It was the one who did the talking.  Apparently she’d had a few drinks before they arrived and if she was actually twenty-one (drinking age) her birthday must have been one day last week.  Aside from being a rather obnoxious drunk she was loud.  Her sister sat across the aisle from us and was constantly embarrassed by her antics.  There were a couple of times that she spilled the contents of her cup onto her companion that was to my immediate right and almost spilled some on me.  She knew some of the models and apparently didn’t like a few and yelled out nasty comments.  Twice she walked across the runway as the models were coming down.  Of course she was going to get more drinks.  Aside from the fact that she got on  my nerves, she reminded me of a younger unregenerate version of myself.  So insecure that I needed reassurance that I existed by drawing attention to myself.  Jealous of any girl who was smarter or prettier than me.  Two friends who loved me dearly but were often embarrassed by my behavior, but also encouraged it because they didn’t have the guts to say what they really thought.  In the end, I was my own worst enemy.  I thank God that I’m not that insecure little girl any more.  The young lady at the fashion show, just like me, was her own worst enemy, she drank so much that she only served to make a fool of herself, and miss most of the fashion show.  In her mind, she probably had a good time.  When she grows up, she’ll realized what she missed.  Hopefully, it won’t be too late.  What I understand about her is that there is something that is driving her behavior, a void that she’s trying to fill, a pain that she is trying to dull, a memory that she’s trying to escape.  Just like I was.  I see it so often.  I saw it especially when I was in the homeless shelter.  Broken little girls like discarded dolls with pieces missing.  The only problem is that because they look whole, people think they’re all right.  And if they’re pretty, their bad behavior is encouraged.


~ by Diva2de on January 6, 2013.

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