A black belt would complete the look nicely. She was certain to find one in the two drawers of belts the previous owners of her new house had left in the back of a closet upstairs. Her director would be pleased.
Bonnie had worked terribly hard for this stupid play. She hemmed her far-too-long dresses herself. She figured out an early 1900 updo for her hair. She scrambled to get new contact lenses, which she only wore on stage. She bought all new makeup, learned her lines early, binge watched Downton Abbey to perfect an upper crust early 1900's British accent, attended every single rehearsal, and had been a model cast member.
Tonight was dress rehearsal. All she needed was the belt.
Of course, there was no black belt upstairs. There were sparkly belts, green belts, gold belts, yellow belts. There were colorful sashes, rhinestone studded obis, and sky blue ruffled wraps. Not one black belt.
Off she went to dress rehearsal beltless. Her dress puddled at her feet. She fell over a prop backstage. Her ankle was ruined, and out of the play she had to drop.
It was going to suck anyway.
This is my entry to @mariannewest's daily freewrite challenge. Today's prompt is black belt.
This is a wish of mine. I am in a play that opens this Friday. It is likely to be embarrassingly bad. My story is mostly true, except for the injury.
I will be there. The show must go on.
Sometimes a play is best from the audience, LOL! I Hope the foot got better....
💗🤠💙😁👍
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