Curtains are supposed to be bright, cheery. They're supposed to accent a room. They're supposed to be thin enough to let the light in and thick enough to provide a measure of privacy. Not these. These are beige, thick. They are only to block the world's eyes out. They must be kept closed at all times, lest the unsuspecting world see my hair, my elbows, the distant image of my unclad legs.
They feel like they lock me in to a world too hot and stuffy to be lived in.
When I go out, the skirts bind my legs together, rubbing skin against skin until it is raw and wants to bleed. They prevent me from sitting comfortably. They make me feel that I have to be hidden. That somehow, I am so unholy that I must be kept away from the light of day.
My hair, too. is shrouded. It too, is wild and evil, and must be reined in. Heaven forbid anyone should see the stray wisps of hair. No, Push it forward. Forward. More. Better yet, cover it all, cover your face. Stay inside and never be seen. Wilt away in the darkness. A king's daughter's only honor is inside.