Window shopping

When I was little, I used to love staring into bridal shop windows.

I used to beg and plead  for my father to slow the car down outside the grandest ones in Leeds.

My younger self saw only glamour and beauty.

Now I see an impossible ideal: a fake purity.

The visions in white I used to see have taken on another aura.

One I find quite disturbing.

How about you?