It’s time for church again. "Yes, I have to get out of bed. What? What difference does it make? Jeff, we’ve talked about this before. Yes, I know I’m a good person. And I do feel good about myself. I’m successful, reasonably attractive (VERY attractive!), and intelligent. No, I can’t come back to bed; I have to get ready for church."
Wow, my hair looks good today. Make-up is perfect. And this dress fits me just right, shows just enough leg, but not too much. Not a man there will be able to focus on the sermon!
Greetings, greetings, greetings. Confident, but feminine handshake. Hugs. Janice looks awful today. I don’t know why she keeps trying to wear that shade of blue. “Darlin’, you look just gorgeous today. I love that shade of blue on you! And where did you get that dress?” I’ll make sure never to shop there.
I should have painted my toenails the rose frost instead of taupe. Oh—we’re done praying. “Amen.” Why in the world does Rosalee sing so loud? She never has gotten over me getting the solo back in high school, and she’s off key as anything. Does she think turning up the volume will make up for her sound?
My goodness, Brother Bob is on a roll today. He’s awfully unrealistic. Maybe next week I’ll sit with Lisa. She’s a little heavy, which will make my figure look even nicer. What? Who does Bob think he is! As if God really cares who I sleep with. I’m an adult; Jeff’s an adult. It’s just part of a normal, mature relationship. Blah, blah, blah. I’m not even going to pay attention to the rest of this.
Oh, he’s back on that now, is he? That movie was very artistically done. Everybody watched it and thought it was very good. It won an Oscar. Why is he being such a prude? Garbage in, garbage out—really! Why should I go around acting all holy and goody-two-shoes just to suit him? Next thing he’ll be asking me to love my neighbor and wash her feet, and it doesn’t look like she’s had a pedicure in quite some time.
Finally! We’re done and I can go shopping. Whew—turn on a little AC and we’ll be just fine.
I can’t believe this idiot is cutting me off! You—
What’s that tinkling sound? It’s like shattered glass, but it sounds so far away . . .
What is this place? I can’t see through all the mist, and I don’t like it one bit.
Well there’s a nice-looking mirror. At least I can check my hair. It feels a little out of place. Okay, here we are . . .
What’s going on? Dear Lord, that’s not me! That can’t be me. I never looked like that. I’m so—ugly. And the picture’s moving.
Why am I looking at Mom and Dad...and Marge...and Rosalee...and them? I don’t remember things happening that way. Why do I hurt when I watch? Oh, I can’t take it. Make it stop! And through it all, that awful, ugly face getting uglier with every word I say and think. I won’t look anymore.
“Danni . . . Danni . . . Where are you? Why do you hide from My face and the glory of My eyes?” The mellow boom of the voice rumbled like the breath of creation.
Oh goodness, He knows I’m here. (I’m where?) If He sees me like this, He’ll know I don’t belong. I can’t let Him see me like this.
“There you are! But why do you hide?” He asked.
God—You know. It’s because I’m so ugly and I’m afraid You won’t want me. Even now, she tried looking at him coyly and flipping her hair, simply out of awkward habit, but the effect was gruesome. She somehow felt it and hung her head in shame.
“Where is your confidence now? Did you fit in with Me on Earth . . . or with Them?” The Voice of God was silent for a long time. “Here your image means nothing. Here the body wears the shape of the heart.”
Danni stood shifting her weight on painfully misshapen feet. She wasn’t sure what would happen now.
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