Diana groaned in agitation as she stood backstage, in front of a vanity mirror, with all of its yellow lights turned on that encircled the mirror, making Diana’s presence in the mirror strikingly bright. But she didn’t want to look at herself because she knew that she looked hideous.
She loathed the way she looked at that moment.
She wore a brown leather corset around her waist that was tightened to the point that her ribs threatened to clench and squeeze the life out of her lungs and she almost felt suffocated to death.
Her bosoms, pushed up and reached for her neck and the crease of her cleavage remained evident and visible as the top buttons of her white shirt remained open, left as such by Bernard and the so called stylist, who was a fashion designing student, working at the theater
