Chapter 14

The moral is that whatever the problem, before being loved by others, you must first love yourself.

In the bedroom I put away my meager belongings in my backpack.

Now that I had met him, I was sure he was going to let me go.

I heard footsteps but didn't pay attention, I had noticed that Olga had a habit of coming in without knocking.

- Olga, I'm going to kill you, you told me at the last minute that it was the head of the mafia, I said, putting away my outfit from this morning in my bag.

Suddenly a large and powerful hand emptied my bag onto the bed.

I turned around and faced the most powerful man I had ever met.

- I... I thought it was Olga

I was angry with myself for baiguiller, it never usually happened to me!

I always managed to stay in control and thus make everyone believe that I was cold and confident.

- Why are you packing your bag?

- Well I imagined that I was free now.

- Stop imagining things Elisabeth, he gets angry.

- But

He holds my chin cutting me and at the same time destroys all the confidence I had in myself.

- AND STOP BEING INSOLENT! I AM VLADIMIR IVANOVICH! I AM THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN RUSSIA! he shouts.

He releases my chin.

- From now on you will never disrespect me again, he said coldly.

He turns around and before leaving with a bestial gait, he tells me to put on a real dress for dinner tonight. By the way he also threatens me to dress me even if I arrive with something other than 'a dress.

When I left, I fell on the bed.

What kind of mess did you just land in my little Elisabeth?

I was still in bed when the real Olga arrived, I had fallen asleep and hadn't seen the time pass.

- Come on my little one, you have to hurry up, dinner will soon be served! she exclaimed.

I sighed and got up reluctantly. This bed was really, really soft. I went to the wardrobe and opened the doors. Inside, I flushed out a dress.

She was beautiful, but as always on me she wouldn't have been enough to hide my overweight.

When I went shopping with my parents and my sister, I sometimes tried on dresses. Some caught my eye immediately, others had been unearthed on the rods.

In the fitting rooms I put them on, happy. But once I went out it was forfeiture. As soon as the curtain was drawn, I was already entitled to my mother's intransigent gaze. Then after the gaze came undeniably the pungent remarks that gripped my guts and took my breath away.

As always I returned to the cabin the euforia of the moment very quickly forgotten. Sheltered in the fitting cocoon I took the time to inspect myself in the glass and, as always, I ended up giving right to my mother.

I hated my body, it disgusted me, made me sick.

However, I tried to lose weight and did nothing, but I couldn't stick to a diet or start exercising.

Since then I used to avoid dresses, skirts and shorts, anything that could reveal my unsightly body and especially my thighs.

No one had ever known that I carried within me this malaise, this perpetual conflict with my body.

That was the intended goal.

Camouflage clothing had simply become my trademark.

I put the dress back on the rod. It was too beautiful to be worn by someone like me. I would feel like I was dirtying it.

I flushed out another, neither too long nor too short, neither too beautiful nor too ugly.

It was simple but sewn in a silky fabric. The color of the dress, a pink burgundy, highlighted the golden chains on the shoulders which gave the outfit a military air.

I went into the bathroom to put on the said dress while panting ravaged at the idea of leaving my pants which were almost like a second skin.