The 7 Deadly Sins: Pride

Her ankles wobble in the four inch heels that look so uncomfortable as she struggles to balance in them.
They must be killing her.
She gives me a fake smile across the bar as the man sitting next to her begins fondling her ass.
She pops it out a little farther, her ego expanding as she knows everyone in the room is watching their public display of affection.
I wonder how much of her hostess’ income she spent on her skintight grey dress, how many hours she’s spent in the tanning booth, how long it takes her every morning to apply her fake eyelashes and curl her hair.
And was it all worth it?
When she’s done, does she breathe a sigh of satisfaction and feel ready to face the day?
Or what’s left of it anyways?
Does she feel like the most attractive woman in the bar?
In the world?
She cattily glares at the girls that pass her by-and so does her gentleman counterpart.
Is the price of vanity worth an ounce of your sanity?
I take my carryout off of the sticky bar and leave for the back door, both of their eyes following me.

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