Curvy Girl Auditions 7 🎁 🆒

I walked to center floor. The pianist played the first four bars of something slow, something aching—a ballad about wanting and not quite belonging.

I was auditioning to see if their stage was big enough for me. curvy girl auditions 7

I stood up. My thighs brushed together—a whisper of fabric and warmth. I didn’t apologize for it. Not anymore. I walked to center floor

The door opened. A woman with a clipboard and kind, tired eyes called out, “Number seven.” I stood up

Audition one: “We’re looking for a different silhouette.” Audition two: “You have beautiful feet, but…” Audition three: silence, then a form letter. Audition four: a choreographer pulled me aside and whispered, “You should try commercial work. More forgiving.” Audition five: I cried in my car. Audition six: I didn’t cry. I just sat in the parking lot and stared at the dashboard until the streetlights came on.

Now, seven.

At the end, I stopped. The last note of the piano faded.