~Shana
My heart beats so rapidly that I fear it may jump clear out of my chest. I'm confident the thin layer of silk covering me is jumping with each beat. I'm not usually concerned about my appearance. When it comes to my work, I'm confident and strong, yet in this negligee and about to walk out in front of hundreds of sets of eyes, I'm as insecure as a thirteen-year-old about to go to her first dance and sure she will spend the entire time in a circle of friends who no boy will ask to dance.
How have I been able to send other women out onto the runway without considering this side of the journey?
It's because those women are models. I'm not.
I'm dressed like one for a single reason—to save this show.
Even with my good intentions, every lie I've ever told myself, every thought of
