I wore the dress without apologising for my body inside it

Dear Delyara, I nearly changed three times. Too tight here. Too soft there. Too visible. Too old for this. Too much. Too little. All the familiar courtroom language came up the moment I stood in front of the mirror, and for once, I didn’t obey it. I wore the dress. Not because I suddenly loved everything I saw. Because I was tired of acting as if my body had to earn permission to be present at events, in photos, at tables, in the world. I am so tired of women reducing themselves before the room has even had a chance to receive them. I went. I stood normally. I let myself take up the space my body already occupied. That felt like a victory not because it was glamorous, but because it interrupted an old cruelty I have spent too many years calling realism.