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I’ve been doing something ridiculous. A sort of inside joke with myself, an influence of banal and excessive television viewing in my free-time (yes it was one of those modelling competitions where one lucky girl will win a contract and be the face of blah blah blah). Over the past couple of weeks every time I walk, I pretend I’m modelling an outfit. The idea is so silly that I have to laugh inwardly. But I make myself go through the charade and I’ve realised it actually does make me a bit more confident. It definitely works better than the time I used to pretend I’m invisible to other people. This makes me stand taller, hold my head higher, walk with a spring in my step (though that depends on what I’ve chosen to mentally model), and not avoid eye contact with people. It’s also a good laugh and helps to lighten the stress.

I thought it had to do with wearing my trench coat. But that I lost a few days ago in an airport in the Balkans. (There is something very sad about losing a coat, something that’s kept you warm and protected, has been your outer shield against the world, a constant travel companion, whose pockets your hands know well. Goodbye dear friend, I hope you’re with someone who loves you.) And yet I continue to mentally strut. I realised it’s to do with the boots. High heels that go klackety-klack.

I’m next going to pretend I’m a ghoul. I’ll float noiselessly pretending my feet don’t touch the ground. And that people are afraid of me when they can see me.

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