“Who is this?” She shook harder, her temper flaring.
“The entire staff at Malone’s,” the voice said, and she knew who it was. That twit, Mark.
“Go to hell.” She slammed the phone down and laughter filtered through as she hung up.
She ran her hands through her hair. She turned and looked into the mirror by her desk. She paused, shocked at what she saw. It was as if she were seeing the real her, what she had become, for the first time.
Her big green eyes stood out. Not just because of the thick, black eyelashes, but also because of the fire she currently had within them. Her lips were full, and she needed lipstick. She hadn’t even had a chance to apply any makeup. The blouse she wore was conservative, plain, but she reached up and undid two buttons. The move instantly made her look sexier.
She smoothed her hands down her hips, pressing the material of the slim-fitting skirt against her hips. She wasn’t flabby, per se. She was solid. A size twelve in most clothing, but strong. She worked out a bit. She loved it, but her size and her weight were set. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. This was her physique. Her extra large breasts were real. They were full, and finding comfortable bras were a bitch, but her breasts were hers.
She licked her lips.
“You’re not ugly. You’re not that fat. You just need to believe in yourself and to stand up for what is right. Stop being a loser. Stop being so shy and reserved that life passes you by. Start opening up your mouth and stop being a doormat.”
The phone on her desk rang again.
She rolled her eyes.
“Now what?”
What mean joke would they create now? Were the diapers really waiting for her outside her door?
She reached for her purse, pulled out her little compact of makeup, and added a bit of color to her cheeks. Chubby cheeks.
She ignored her sour thoughts as best she could.
She added the lip gloss, then some color to her eyelids.
There. That’s
better.
Straighten out your shoulders. Stand up and be confident. You’ve worked too hard. You’ll get through this meeting, this day, and then be home safe and in your boring little world.
There was a knock at the door.
“Yes.”
The door opened. Alexa was standing there.
“Um, Tia, the meeting is getting started.”
“Oh. Okay. I’m on my way.”
She grabbed her bag and her leather binder with her notepad inside. It had her initials on it. No one bought it for her. No one accepted her accomplishments in the workforce. She bought it herself. She acknowledged her hard work, while others took credit. She was losing herself and all the control she had gained by leaving her abusive parents. She was going backward.
She paused in the doorway. Alexa looked at her oddly, and Tia Rose shook her thoughts from her mind. No more negativity. Not today. She needed to plant her heels in the floor and halt any further negativity. How was she supposed to be productive if she felt like this?
As she began to exit the room, she turned to look back at it, the smallest office, and the one without a window. What would be sitting on her desk when she returned? Diapers, food, or maybe dog shit?
She shook her head and when she felt the hand on her shoulder, she nearly jumped.
“They’re assholes. You’re better than they are, and better than Bethany. Remember that,” Alexa said then walked back to her reception desk.
Tia took a deep breath, relieved that she seemed to have at least one ally, even if short-lived.
She headed to the meeting room, and for the first time, she entered with her palms itchy and her attitude adjusted.