Paper Dolls
Calling All Trophy Wives... (Cause I will never be
At 22 years old, I’m pretty grown up. Kind of...
If you can get past my naturally copper colored hair, littered with purple, black, green and neon pink streaks... my snakebite lip rings, my nose hoop, ears covered in metal, lobes gauged to a solid 2, the nape piercing, I’m grown up.
Okay, so I’m covering in tattoos as well... A lily on my right shoulder that bleeds into stars, music notes, some girly skulls and a heart through a cross hair with some vapor-like filler that ends at my elbow, and then there’s the multi-color feathered wing tattoo that covers my entire back and the “Death Bat” A7X logo on each of my hips with purple surface piercings in the eyes and two sparrows on each side of my pelvic bone. Oh, and of course the tattered knee-length baggy shorts and the vintage “My Little Pony” shirt I’m dressed in...
Aside from all that, I’m grown up.
Or, perhaps the only things grown about me is my height of 5’9, my chest and the fact that I work and support myself... even if I did steal my t-shirt from my neighbor’s 7 year old daughter.
Shut up.
On the bright side, at 22 years old I’m living in my apartment in LA, paying the bills myself while my loser boyfriend pays nothing.
Ironically...
“I want you out tomorrow,” he said without an ounce of sympathy in his tone.
“Are you on drugs, Michael?” I asked with venom in my voice.
“No, listen up Scar... Fuck, look at you, we’re complete opposites!”
Well, he was right about one thing...
Michael Giovanni and I had been dating for three years, I’ve worked my ass off to keep us in an apartment while he went to college having a scholarship for 75% of the $40,000 a year tuition. I paid the leftover $10,000 a year. He was a jock with blue eyes and blonde hair and I was a punk with green eyes and... well it changes.
“Wow, that never seemed to matter to you while I was paying for everything!” I screamed.
“Nw that I’ve just been signed to the LA Angels... I’m pretty sure I can get a much more respectable looking girl... Complete with silicon,” he smirked in that moronic jock way of his.
“Well, that’s nice,” I said rolling my eyes. I wasn’t that upset about him dumping me, I saw that coming and I didn’t really love him anymore. He’d changed so much. “But, you can’t kick me out of this apartment, Michael. I pay the rent!” I defended.
“And... who did you let sign the lease? Who’s is the only name on it?” he asked with a smirk.
You can’t win ‘em all, can you?
What a freaking idiot I am!
“Where do you get off doing this?!” I yelled, mad as hell at myself for being an idiot and even more furious with him.
“Where do I get off doing this?” he asked, like the answer should have been obvious to me.
“Yeah,” I growled, “why the fuck are you doing this?”
“Scarlet, let’s be serious... Look at you... I mean, yeah, you’re gorgeous, in a weird way and of course you’re a great fuck, but if I’m going to get signed... I need a girlfriend who makes a perfect accessory hanging off my arm. I mean, would Josh Beckett get a watch out of a gumball machine... or would he buy a diamond studded Rolex?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mike? A great fuck? That’s what I am to you?” I asked, pissed that anyone could say that.
“What you are?” he repeated. “Baby, that’s all you are.”
“Funny, I thought I’ve been nothing but a great girlfriend to you as well. I’m not an idiot, I know this has been over for a while, but, fuck I thought I was still being a good friend to you, and you can’t return the fucking favor?” I glared, grabbing my tattered messenger bag, held together by safety pins, which he’d already put my clothes in. I then grabbed my wallet.
“Now listen, Scarlet,” he started. “You don’t have to leave tonight, LA can be dangerous at night--”
“Gee, thanks, cause I haven’t fucking lived here, with you, for three goddamned years or anything, Mike,” I said sarcastically.
“Well, whatever,” he said, looking annoyed, “I was just trying to be nice to you... Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get ready for a date...”
Okay, so yeah, he did just get signed to the LA Angels and was now in the MLB, and I knew appearances were everything, well, aside from skill... But for some reason, I just couldn’t help my fist colliding with his nose... and breaking it.
“Oops,” I shrugged as he screamed like a chick while I grabbed my bag. “Nice knowing you, asshole,” I muttered as I left.
If you can get past my naturally copper colored hair, littered with purple, black, green and neon pink streaks... my snakebite lip rings, my nose hoop, ears covered in metal, lobes gauged to a solid 2, the nape piercing, I’m grown up.
Okay, so I’m covering in tattoos as well... A lily on my right shoulder that bleeds into stars, music notes, some girly skulls and a heart through a cross hair with some vapor-like filler that ends at my elbow, and then there’s the multi-color feathered wing tattoo that covers my entire back and the “Death Bat” A7X logo on each of my hips with purple surface piercings in the eyes and two sparrows on each side of my pelvic bone. Oh, and of course the tattered knee-length baggy shorts and the vintage “My Little Pony” shirt I’m dressed in...
Aside from all that, I’m grown up.
Or, perhaps the only things grown about me is my height of 5’9, my chest and the fact that I work and support myself... even if I did steal my t-shirt from my neighbor’s 7 year old daughter.
Shut up.
On the bright side, at 22 years old I’m living in my apartment in LA, paying the bills myself while my loser boyfriend pays nothing.
Ironically...
“I want you out tomorrow,” he said without an ounce of sympathy in his tone.
“Are you on drugs, Michael?” I asked with venom in my voice.
“No, listen up Scar... Fuck, look at you, we’re complete opposites!”
Well, he was right about one thing...
Michael Giovanni and I had been dating for three years, I’ve worked my ass off to keep us in an apartment while he went to college having a scholarship for 75% of the $40,000 a year tuition. I paid the leftover $10,000 a year. He was a jock with blue eyes and blonde hair and I was a punk with green eyes and... well it changes.
“Wow, that never seemed to matter to you while I was paying for everything!” I screamed.
“Nw that I’ve just been signed to the LA Angels... I’m pretty sure I can get a much more respectable looking girl... Complete with silicon,” he smirked in that moronic jock way of his.
“Well, that’s nice,” I said rolling my eyes. I wasn’t that upset about him dumping me, I saw that coming and I didn’t really love him anymore. He’d changed so much. “But, you can’t kick me out of this apartment, Michael. I pay the rent!” I defended.
“And... who did you let sign the lease? Who’s is the only name on it?” he asked with a smirk.
You can’t win ‘em all, can you?
What a freaking idiot I am!
“Where do you get off doing this?!” I yelled, mad as hell at myself for being an idiot and even more furious with him.
“Where do I get off doing this?” he asked, like the answer should have been obvious to me.
“Yeah,” I growled, “why the fuck are you doing this?”
“Scarlet, let’s be serious... Look at you... I mean, yeah, you’re gorgeous, in a weird way and of course you’re a great fuck, but if I’m going to get signed... I need a girlfriend who makes a perfect accessory hanging off my arm. I mean, would Josh Beckett get a watch out of a gumball machine... or would he buy a diamond studded Rolex?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mike? A great fuck? That’s what I am to you?” I asked, pissed that anyone could say that.
“What you are?” he repeated. “Baby, that’s all you are.”
“Funny, I thought I’ve been nothing but a great girlfriend to you as well. I’m not an idiot, I know this has been over for a while, but, fuck I thought I was still being a good friend to you, and you can’t return the fucking favor?” I glared, grabbing my tattered messenger bag, held together by safety pins, which he’d already put my clothes in. I then grabbed my wallet.
“Now listen, Scarlet,” he started. “You don’t have to leave tonight, LA can be dangerous at night--”
“Gee, thanks, cause I haven’t fucking lived here, with you, for three goddamned years or anything, Mike,” I said sarcastically.
“Well, whatever,” he said, looking annoyed, “I was just trying to be nice to you... Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get ready for a date...”
Okay, so yeah, he did just get signed to the LA Angels and was now in the MLB, and I knew appearances were everything, well, aside from skill... But for some reason, I just couldn’t help my fist colliding with his nose... and breaking it.
“Oops,” I shrugged as he screamed like a chick while I grabbed my bag. “Nice knowing you, asshole,” I muttered as I left.