by Loredana Tiron-Pandit
I am walking fast. Maybe the headache will be blown away by the chill in the air. Maybe the nausea will be obliterated by the effort of the fast movement. But then, all the sensations may very well stay with me. After all, I am walking toward the most critical event of my whole career.
This meeting will decide my future. I have to be strong. I have to be powerful. I can envision the six dark suits around the large table trying to pierce through me and measure my worth. The five men and one woman in that conference room have to see me as the indubitable winner. The visionary leader. The trustworthy colleague. The unfailing scholar. The good listener. The compassionate authority figure. The strong-willed manager. Which I am. I'm confident about that.
What I am worried about is what they might think of the outfit I felt inspired to put together today. The '50s silk pink scarf that I bought for 5 dollars at the antique market this weekend. The flowery ruffled skirt that belonged to my mom -- she is wearing it in the photo of my first day of school. What makes me anxious is how they might judge my loose and freely greying curls. What terrifies me is how they could react when they see that I really am a woman.
About the Author: Loredana Tiron-Pandit is a writer and editor based in Massachusetts. You can visit her website at www.loritironpandit.com