More Issues Than Vogue | ✔️

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The amount of close interactions I've had with the opposite sex can be reduced to two people: my dad and Matt.

My dad and I had a close relationship. He was the original source of inspiration for why I wanted to write. He was, after all, a successful and controversial journalist of his time and only hoped that his offspring would continue his legacy. As a child, he'd read to me novels instead of bedtime stories. As a pubescent, he entered me - unwillingly - into local writing and poetry contests. In high school, he was on his feet clapping and crying when I received an award for academic excellence in English and Literature.

He also served as my harshest critic. If my dad was an expert at anything, it was criticizing my pieces. This only worked to my advantage though. He continually pushed me to my limits, challenging me to think bigger, dig deeper with my emotions, and vocalize my point of view. Through it all, he proved to be my number one fan. I was never anyone but my true essence around him.

Of course, growing up, I had crushes, a sprinkle of guy friends, but none of them stuck long enough to make a huge impact on my life. These boys grew up to be matured men. But what self-respecting high school guy wanted to date a closeted big-rimmed glasses frizzy haired girl like me? My blossoming came too late and by the time my physical appearances finally caught up to my undeniably charming personality, I was already in my second semester of freshman year in college.

It was there that I had finally allowed Madison's nagging to fix myself up and look at least presentable in front of the human population. Goodbye glasses and frizzy hair, hello contacts and styling mousse.

It wasn't a drastic makeover like that of the teen movies where the nerdy girl undergoes a makeover to look basically the same only with eight pounds of makeup on. I had gotten a layered trim to my hair and let grow out, started eating healthier to get a defined body, and made several necessary trips to Sephora to make sure I had all the essentials at my disposal.

My dad never believed in makeup or nice clothes. He was a stickler for people feeling comfortable in their own skin and truth be told, I was perfectly fine with who I was and how I looked before college. I had never been so highly insecure of myself that I felt the need to take extreme measures to shape my physical appearances. But I did realize that I needed to, in a way, upgrade my physicality.

Matt was the first guy who noticed the new me. I was naturally nervous that once I washed away the styling mousse, took of the contacts, and wipe off the make up, he'd run far away. But he didn't and for two years, he made me feel beautiful.

Until now, I've learned that I didn't need a man to make me feel comfortable in my own skin. Sure, I got nervous here and there (prime example: Nate), but overall, I never desired to be anyone but myself.

So, a few days later, when Kevin arranged for us to take a day trip and scour the city in search of decorations for the EPAA gala, I had no problem saying yes. Granted it would be just the two of us, I was confident that Kevin would be one guy I could add to the short list of people I felt comfortable around. It was an unfamiliar feeling, letting someone I just met a few weeks ago into my life as much as I had opened up to Kevin, but it also felt right.

I followed Kevin into the enormous warehouse of Pop!, a quality balloon manufacturer that sold a collective mesh of balloons in various shapes, sizes, textures, and designs. As we stepped through the large metal-framed doors, the thousands of inflated displays that hung captivated me. There were balloons containing items that hung off its body, various shapes that lit up in all kinds of colorful lights, and even cutouts, which didn't make any logical sense, but I started gawking at them anyway.