I unbutton my grease-stained
red, short sleeved blazer
as if I won't need it again.

My girlfriends surround me
with flat-irons, razors,
mascara, box dye, and champagne.

"You're gorgeous" they tell me.
My eyelids turn pink
but then they wipe that off and try blue.

They talk about train length
and whether they think
I should show off or hide my tattoos.

And now all the girls take me shopping
my mom helps me zip from behind
we both know I hate it, the colorless fabric's too bright

"So then let's not pretend you're a virgin"
I laugh because she read my mind
and we go on a search for a short, sleeveless gown in off-white.