The dress fits me perfectly. It’s in my favorite color, and my blonde hair matches with the baby blue fabric. My makeup is minimal. Just one layer of lipgloss.

I should feel beautiful. Powerful even. But I don’t.

“Penny, it’s almost time to go!” From downstairs, my mother’s voice grows with impatience. The heel of her boot taps against the floor, punctuating her need for us to leave as soon as possible.

“Coming, mom!”

I turn myself at different angles in my mirror, assessing each detail. My mother surprised me with this dress last weekend, and her eyes lit up at the idea of me sporting it on our mother and daughter outings. I was joyous too when it hung in my closet.

But now, there is a fabric cutter in my hands. My thumb slowly slides the blade up. The silver winks at me from the light of morning, almost encouraging me. “Obey the intrusive thought plaguing you, Penny. We do not have all day.”

So, from neckline to bottom edge, I slice the dress off. It glides smooth like skin, and it’s as if I’m performing surgery on myself, making the first incision. When the outer layer falls away, I am open to the world in my binder and underwear. The guts I wouldn’t let anyone else see reflected back at me.

“Penny! What is taking you so long?!”

I put on the nearest pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, grab my converse, and meet her by the door.

My mother’s eyes widen, and her brows pinch together, but she makes no comment.