Status: Working on it!
Balloon Theory.
As I glanced through my mothers old fashion magazines, I decided something. I was nine years old at the time. I had inherited Mum's gorgeous blonde hair and my Dad's gentle turquoise eyes and angled face. My pink lips were full and soft, even at that young age. I had all the criteria going for me. I wanted to be a model, like the women in the magazines. I wanted people to take pictures of me wearing beautiful clothes. I wanted to be famous and everyone would know my name.
Wednesday Finch: Hottest New Model To Hit The Camera's!
That would be the headline. I had pictured everything - right down to the colour of the fluffy carpet in my mansion. Clothing lines would fight over me and girls would aspire to be me. It was simple, in my head. I didn't even have to try.
Shame, really. In the real world, it's not that easy. You feel exactly like a balloon - extremely fragile. And one conceited prick can make you burst.
© um. 2012
Wednesday Finch: Hottest New Model To Hit The Camera's!
That would be the headline. I had pictured everything - right down to the colour of the fluffy carpet in my mansion. Clothing lines would fight over me and girls would aspire to be me. It was simple, in my head. I didn't even have to try.
Shame, really. In the real world, it's not that easy. You feel exactly like a balloon - extremely fragile. And one conceited prick can make you burst.
© um. 2012