Carolyn stared at the fluffy, pink-hued sweater lying on her bedspread. The sweater had been a gift, from whom she could no longer remember, and had lived at the back of her closet for just over a decade. She hated sweaters and pink was her least favorite color. The color always did something to her skin, made her appear washed out and almost sickly, and she avoided it at all costs. Yet here she was, staring at her nemesis in her bedroom.
"I'm not going to enjoy wearing this," she said, grimacing at the sweater. "If I so much as feel the beginnings of an itch, I'm informing the CTO that I'm not taking part in this ridiculous solidarity exercise."
She quickly stuffed a blouse into her tote, to serve as a back-up, and then reached for the sweater. The yarn was surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch, but she still found herself cringing as she pulled it over her head. Her cat, lurking just inside the doorway, let out an inquisitive meow.
"I agree," she answered, looking in the mirror. "I look ridiculous. It's like wearing a puffy box. And I look like I'm battling the flu, for goodness sake."
Carolyn sighed and turned away from the mirror, moving to her vanity. She could do nothing about the sweater, though she did plan to have a few words with her boss about these team exercises. Her pale appearance, however, was another matter.
She sat down and briefly perused her makeup before selecting several powders and palettes from her generous collection. She quickly applied some primer before brandishing the first of her brushes, then began applying the powders. She may be stuck in a horrible sweater, but at least she could add some life back into her complexion.
This prompt was provided by @mariannewest and can be found here.
Image sourced from Pixabay.
