Eat your heart out. I am a gorgeous, young, intelligent woman who can offer anyone and everyone an entertaining evening with my winsome wit and my moving memories. No more am I the insecure teenager I once was, I have dropped that aura and took upon myself the presence of a strong willed queen, the queen of my life and no mortal man can stop me from doing what I want.
Where do I get this unstoppable feeling of self-satisfaction? It’s me. I wake up every morning I look in the mirror and I think, "what a gorgeous woman." I know there is more to me then the stupendous figure and the glorious goddess face that I have been given and so that is why I wear a mask.
Every morning without fail I put my mask on, or more like I take gobs of make up and smear it on. In the evening I wash it off and I peel off the added fat that gives me girth and gives me the pinch able juiciness that is not really my face.
Yes I know that the campus forbids students to wear masks but they were so shocked by my stunning beauty that they forced me to put this brown bag over my head. Well that is what it looks like to me. My ordinary face that I put on in the morning holds no glory, no stunning quality that the original does.
It’s a good thing that I know that beneath the grease and the dull brown wig that crowns my head is the true beautiful me. The effects of this cover up have saved girls from my stealing their boyfriends, crushes and even husbands with my stunning charms.
Men have trailed me since I was a child. I worked hard to make myself ugly in a practical way. I shaved my head when I was five, I stopped wearing deodorant when I was twelve and now I have taken to putting on the fake wears of the world that so many girls use to make themselves beautiful.
But I think I am going to quit. I am tired of being judged by this ugly face I am forced to wear. The pretense I put on insults those around me. Everyone knows the gorgeous face and figure that I hide so well under baggy hoodies and the padded gullet that I am wear to add girth to my amazing figure is fake. I can't hide any longer what everyone wants to see.
This dark and dismal place called Rexburg deserves to see the beauty that is me. Even if men begin to trail me at least they will be happy while drooling after me and licking the ground I walk on and caressing the tissues I use to blow my nose with.
I am sick of being dumped and receiving uninterested flirtations from men because of the practical face I use to hide the glorious me. No longer will I do this I won't stand to be looked down on, frowned upon, brutalized and judged.
Who can brow beat beauty? Who would dare to turn me down or ignore me if I were take off this mask? The answer is simple: no one.
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