She’d work and they’d leer; “You’re beautiful, stay that way”, trapping her as a glittering bird to decorate their office. Each day she took care to paint her lips the colour of fire hydrants, her skin coloured to milk. She’d learned a smile that hid the frustration so the make-up wouldn’t crack; no-one was interested in what lay underneath. Short tight skirts drew attention, even if her work went unnoticed her legs would not.
Susan of thought the day ahead and grimaced. Her hand swept over the table, painting the floor the colours of her face. She nodded once, stepping over the mess to her husband’s dresser.
Today Susan would wear pants; loose, unflattering pants. She wouldn’t wear makeup, or be decorative, she'd work.
I’ll be me. They’ll notice me.
Spoiler
Hey guys! This is a piece I wrote for the 150 words contest, and any critiques are welcome! My topic was "challenging gender roles", and I've been watching far too much Mad Men, so... here we are! Rip it to bits. 

