Strutting like it's nobody's business

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I volunteer on weekends.
I adopted a shelter dog.
I have a 4.1 weighted GPA.
I am a leader.
I'm compassionate.
I'm a good person.
Who cares?
First impressions
initial glances
judgments
clothes, eyes, purses
they're what get you in.
So I walk. 
No.
I saunter.
I swing my hips
like I own the place.
I put my head up,
chin level,
lips puckered,
eyes piercing.
I picture myself on a runway,
the runway.
I am stomping towards 
Tyra and Miss Jay,
strutting towards the cameras,
I have pride and purpose,
advantage and appeal.
I am freaking boss.
I am the baddest bitch.
I own this town.
They move around me,
watch me,
glance and whisper,
say hi, 
stare and wonder,
who is she?
And I can say all of my awesome attributes
because now they see me.
I get where I'm going
and where I want to be.
But I'm not vapid
vanishing, vain.
I'm everything that's on their list.
My self is awesome, admirable,
amazing.
But my walk
That is flawless. 

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