F.A.K.E.

I liked Iowa.
It wasn't as shitty as I thought it would be.
We moved into a nice little two story house in the suburbs of a city. Our new home had several bedrooms and two bathrooms and a pool in the small backyard. It was the kind of neighborhood that you see in movies and TV shows.
It didn't take long to unpack my things into my new room. Hang a few posters. Put clothes away. Set up my computer. My mother was nice enough to give me the room with a door that lead straight to my own personal bathroom.
Since it was already mid July, I only had about three weeks until school started in august. A brand new school. With all new people. All new groups of all new people. And no Wednesday.
During those three weeks, I spent most of my time at home in front of the TV. Why make contact with other humans when they're going to hate you the second they see you anyways? I didn't see the point.
On one of these said days, I was sitting upside down on the living room couch channel surfing. I'd stopped pressing the channel button when I reached a cartoon channel.
That was when the thought hit me. It was one of those thoughts that hits you so fast it makes you jump. Like a epiphany or something.
Well when I jumped I fell off the couch and landed on my stomach on the floor.
"Oh my god..." I whispered to myself as I stood up.
"Why didn't I think of this sooner?" I continued as I ran up the stairs to my room.
I ripped open a drawer to my dresser and out fell a magazine filled from front to back with beautiful people. The pages flew and then stopped at a page with three girls standing next to each other. One girl had long curls flowing down to her waist. Another with short dark brown hair stood beside her and the third girl had long hair dyed an unnatural color of red.
the image of beauty.
"Why be a freak of society when I can be beautiful?"
The next day was the first official day I became fake.
I borrowed my mothers credit card and was off to the mall.
The first and, I suppose, most important thing was my hair. It took hours, but my long, waist length, light brown hair was cut short to my shoulders and dyed a light blonde. For the first time, I had bangs that covered my forehead and my right eye.
A lady showed me how to apply eyeliners and eye shadows with out making myself look like a crack whore. She gave me tons of containers of blushes and lip gloss. When I tried to pay for it all she insisted that I take it for free.
The rest of the day was spent buying mass amounts of clothing.
Shirts, jackets, shoes, jewelry, bikinis, hair clips, under shirts, nail polish.
Everything I could ever need to be fake pretty.
After wards I found a bathroom on the east side of the mall and changed from my "un cool" clothes into a pair of faded Capri jeans, a blue shirt with a while under shirt -all of which where from Abercrombie- and some black flip flops to go along.
I found every matching bracelet I could and to top it off, I put a blue hair clip in my hair on the left side of my head.
I took my old clothes and disposed of them properly in the nearest trashcan.
Why would I need them?
Its not like they'll ever bring me any good memories.
My mom nearly broke into tears when she saw me and claimed that I looked just like she had at my age. I retreated to my room before she could have a chance to whip out the camera.
I threw out all of my old clothes to make room for all my new ones. All in all, I had five pairs of pants, three jackets, possibly over a dozen shirts, countless bracelets and necklaces, three pairs of slip on shoes with nice bright designs and a pair of flip flops in nearly every color of the rainbow.
And all of it was considered "preppy".
And thus, my journey into extreme fakeness begins.