Lost in your Curves

"I am an independent, strong, and courageous woman. I am an independent, strong, and courageous woman. I am an independent, strong, and courageous woman."

Standing naked in front of the large full-length mirror in the bathroom, I repeated my new mantra over and over between sobs, while tears streamed down my face.

The shower was running, warm water cascading pointlessly. I had already showered, but the sound of the water helped calm me. The steam it emitted felt soothing, and it muffled my cries, making them less noticeable.

A sudden knock on the bathroom door jolted me slightly.

"Yes?"

"Daughter, it’s me. Are you okay?"

I recognized my grandfather Chester’s voice on the other side of the door. I forced myself to calm down, took a deep breath, and cleared my throat.

"Yes… Yes, Abu, thank you."

His footsteps sounded as he moved around the room. "Is something wrong?" I asked nervously, trying to sound natural.

"No, daughter, it’s nothing serious. I was knocking on your door for a while, but you didn’t answer. I got worried, so I came in. I hope I didn’t disturb you."

My grandfather raised his voice slightly to be heard over the water. I turned off the shower faucet to make it easier to hear him.

"Ah! Yes, Abu, I was in the shower and had some music on—that’s probably why I didn’t hear you."

I lied, guilt constricting my chest. I closed my eyes tightly.

"What did you need me for?"

"Honey, I just wanted to remind you that tonight is dinner with our new partners."

"Dinner?!", I had completely forgotten and precisely on that day, I was not at my best to have to face a lot of businessmen who would surely argue about business, the future of their companies, their children, their grandchildren and make bad jokes.

I had always been honest with my grandfather, you could say that we have a connection, a very special affection for each other, however, if I told him the truth about what was happening to me that night, the main reason why I didn't want to attend dinner, I was afraid that I would end up disappointing him again and I didn't want to have to go through that again, at least, not for the moment.

I had to fail that torture, in the state I was in, I would not stand it. So, I had no choice, I had to lie to my grandfather Chester again.

"I’m sorry, Abu, I forgot. I’ve already made plans for tonight with…" I hesitated nervously, and the first name that came to mind slipped out. "Mike!"

Frustrated, I smacked my forehead. Why couldn’t I come up with someone else?

"Ah, yes! Very nice! May I ask what plans you have?" He sounded genuinely intrigued.

"Nothing important—just dinner," I improvised, hoping to keep his curiosity at bay.

"Of course! Now that you mention it, isn’t this the week they’re celebrating their anniversary?" he continued to probe from the other side of the door, while I silently begged him to stop.

"Umm… yes."

"I’m happy for you, daughter. Two years together… Do you know what? I bet he’ll propose to you tonight," he added excitedly.

That simple remark hit me like a dagger. I gripped the sink counter tightly and took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. Swallowing hard, I fought to dissolve the lump forming in my throat.

"Don’t exaggerate, Grandpa," I muttered, trying to deflect him. How could I crush this expectation without disappointing him?

"You’ll see, daughter! I’m sure of it!" he said cheerfully.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t keep the charade going any longer. Sensing my silence, my grandfather finally decided to let it go.

"Well, I’ll leave you to finish getting ready. You’ll probably get home late tonight, so I’ll see you early tomorrow at the company—with the good news, I hope. Remember, we have a meeting."

"Good evening, Abu," I murmured, still clutching the counter, trying to steady myself.

"Good evening, daughter."

I heard a door close in the distance, my grandfather was gone, I could suffer alone again, in my personal hole.

How horrible! I felt terrible! Not only did I lie to my grandfather about my plans for tonight, but I also lied to him about my relationship, because in fact, Mike had broken up with me that very morning.

I used to think that after so many disappointments in love and with the passage of time, one ended up becoming immune to the pain of a breakup, but at least in my case, it was not like that.

In fact, I was even more disappointed when after two years of relationship, on the day of our anniversary, Mike met me in a nice café, something very unusual, which made me assume that I would have a romantic surprise or a detail.

I was left with my mouth open, it's true, I expected a surprise, and I was quite amazed when Mike arrived with his new assistant, Lisa, a stunning, slim, and beautiful young woman. There, in front of her, he broke up with me, explaining that he had fallen in love with her, while the girl clung to her jacket and smiled satisfied. At least I didn't give them the pleasure of crying in front of them.

I took courage and let go of the counter, I took the towel with the resolution to leave the bathroom, but before wrapping myself, I turned around and again observed my silhouette in the mirror, the rolls, the fat, flaccidity, cellulite. The tears flowed down on their own.

"No!" I exclaimed to myself in front of the mirror, wiping away the fresh tears that had just streaked my face. "Enough, Ava! It's over. No more!"

I placed a trembling hand against the mirror, palm over palm, and cleared my throat.

"I, Ava, swear to myself: I will not fall in love again. I will not enter another relationship. From now on, there will only be casual encounters, no feelings—because there are none. From this moment on, I don’t have them."

Closing my eyes, I willed the tears to stop for good. When I opened them again, I stared into my own reflection and spoke firmly, "I am an independent, strong, and brave woman."

I repeated my mantra one last time, washed my face, and left the bathroom, determined to begin a new chapter of my life. Starting now, I was going to be a new version of myself.

There was some truth to the excuse I had given my grandfather—I did have plans for the evening. A group of friends had invited me to a club early that morning as soon as they heard about my breakup.

But, of course, I couldn’t tell my grandfather I was skipping dinner with the new partners to go partying. That would’ve been unacceptable. So, I lied. I just hadn’t thought the lie through very well. Mike wasn’t exactly the best choice for an excuse.

Still, it didn’t matter.

I arrived at the club with a newfound determination. My mind was still cluttered with insecurities, but I clung to the promise I had made to myself. As I entered the venue, I silently repeated my mantra.

"I am an independent, strong, and brave woman," I told myself, striding in confidently.

My tight, jet-black sequined dress sparkled under the club lights, and although it clung uncomfortably in all the wrong places, I walked tall, pretending I felt like a goddess.

I wasn’t model-thin, nor did I have a perfectly toned body, and yes, I carried a few extra pounds. But I still had my curves—more voluptuous than those of many other women—and tonight, I was determined to own them.

When I stepped into the club, leaving my legs exposed in that daring dress, paired with dramatic makeup and sky-high heels, my friends erupted in a loud, thunderous cheer. Their screams nearly drowned out the music, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Every eye turned to me, and for a moment, I felt the weight of their stares. But I lifted my chin, channeling the new Ava, and walked straight into the spotlight.