First, I was embarrassed. Was Babyface being sarcastic when he told me I looked nice? Did I actually look ridiculous? Was I trying too hard? Should I wear looser clothes? Is it because I wear make-up that he thinks I’m looking for that kind of attention? All my worries boiled down to one premise: that I did something wrong.
Then came the resentment. My happy place had been sullied. Now I would cross-paths with that trainer and hold my breath until I made it past him, hoping he wouldn’t see me.