This is me naked. Not that kind of naked, although these curves are a beautiful sight to behold. No, this is me naked. Vulnerable. Scared. All my flaws exposed. All my sins. All my tragedies. Swirling, ugly, mocking, cat-calling at me, reminding me of everything I’ve fucked up. Everything I’ve ruined. Everything I’ve squandered, wasted, abused. Everything I’ve postponed, put off, pushed back. All my unfulfilled dreams, all the lives I could have lived. The bad decisions laughing in my face. The poor choices lurking, ever lurking, to remind me that I’m generally a fuck-up.
And this is me wearing courage. Dressing myself up, putting on my makeup, gilding the lily to present a flawless image of bravery and badassery. The sins and tragedies begin to quiet, grudgingly settling down, going back into their rotting wooden boxes. They know they are no match for Jess, in full courageous body armor. So they become silent, awaiting the next time I am foolish enough to expose myself.