DeathMonkey
12-31-2003, 10:59 PM
I wrote this pretty quickly, sorry if its a bit sloppy...
Miss Universe
She sat at the vanity, the silver daylight reflecting off the mirror from the bedroom window. She pushed her straight brown hair behind her ears and examined her reflection, leaning forward for a more thorough inspection. She winced at every crease, every blemish. The bedroom behind her disappeared as every feature on her face because more and more noticeable. Her nose was a strange shape. Her left eye wasn't as wide as her right. Her lips were pale. Her cheeks were childishly chubby. Frantically, she pressed her fingers against her face, as thought trying to reshape it, despair crawling through her as her skin fell back to its natural place. "I'm ugly," she muttered. "I'm ugly." She whispered it over and over, as though trying to accept it. But she couldn't.
She stared miserably at her equally miserable reflection, wondering what she could do to save herself. Nervously, almost daringly, she picked up the shiny black tube on the vanity. The lid slipped off with a click, exposing the creamy stick inside. She held the tube in her thin fingers, like a pencil, wondering where to start.
She spread the foundation over her cheeks and nose like butter, marvelling at the way her black freckles seemed to disappear. Soon, her whole face was caked with the makeup. She smiled at the perfection of her smooth, even toned face, and explored the tools in front of her. A little pink blusher spread over her cheekbones, giving her the impression of a blushing schoolgirl. She carefully dabbed pale blue powder over her eyelids, the tiny glittery grains sprinkling over her cheeks. Her eyelashes were pulsating with mascara, so thick and heavy now they seemed to be falling over her eyes. Black eyeliner traced around the outline of her eyes. she blinked, the blue and black rising and falling in and out of each other like waves. She half closed her eyes, attempting to look seductive.
She searched for lipstick, the brightest colour she could find. Finally she settled on a bright red colour, the colour of sports cars, the colour of blood, the colour of the bright billboards in the city. She carefully coloured in her pale pink lips, making sure the lipstick didn't go over the lines. Smacking her lips together, like she'd seen her mother do it, the transformation was complete. 'Is it really me?' she whispered, stroking her jawline.
She was beautiful. She could be in a magazine. The plainness of her appearance was gone, replaced by glamour and fantasy.
"Clara? Clara, where are you honey?"
She jumped in her seat as her mother walked into the room. "Oh Clara, I see you've gotten into Mummy's makeup again," she said, smiling.
"Do I look pretty, Mummy?" asked Clara quietly.
"Oh, you look lovely," said her mother, humouring her, slightly cringing at the garish colours on her daughter's face. "Much older than eight. Come on, wipe that off, we're going to visit Grandma."
Miss Universe
She sat at the vanity, the silver daylight reflecting off the mirror from the bedroom window. She pushed her straight brown hair behind her ears and examined her reflection, leaning forward for a more thorough inspection. She winced at every crease, every blemish. The bedroom behind her disappeared as every feature on her face because more and more noticeable. Her nose was a strange shape. Her left eye wasn't as wide as her right. Her lips were pale. Her cheeks were childishly chubby. Frantically, she pressed her fingers against her face, as thought trying to reshape it, despair crawling through her as her skin fell back to its natural place. "I'm ugly," she muttered. "I'm ugly." She whispered it over and over, as though trying to accept it. But she couldn't.
She stared miserably at her equally miserable reflection, wondering what she could do to save herself. Nervously, almost daringly, she picked up the shiny black tube on the vanity. The lid slipped off with a click, exposing the creamy stick inside. She held the tube in her thin fingers, like a pencil, wondering where to start.
She spread the foundation over her cheeks and nose like butter, marvelling at the way her black freckles seemed to disappear. Soon, her whole face was caked with the makeup. She smiled at the perfection of her smooth, even toned face, and explored the tools in front of her. A little pink blusher spread over her cheekbones, giving her the impression of a blushing schoolgirl. She carefully dabbed pale blue powder over her eyelids, the tiny glittery grains sprinkling over her cheeks. Her eyelashes were pulsating with mascara, so thick and heavy now they seemed to be falling over her eyes. Black eyeliner traced around the outline of her eyes. she blinked, the blue and black rising and falling in and out of each other like waves. She half closed her eyes, attempting to look seductive.
She searched for lipstick, the brightest colour she could find. Finally she settled on a bright red colour, the colour of sports cars, the colour of blood, the colour of the bright billboards in the city. She carefully coloured in her pale pink lips, making sure the lipstick didn't go over the lines. Smacking her lips together, like she'd seen her mother do it, the transformation was complete. 'Is it really me?' she whispered, stroking her jawline.
She was beautiful. She could be in a magazine. The plainness of her appearance was gone, replaced by glamour and fantasy.
"Clara? Clara, where are you honey?"
She jumped in her seat as her mother walked into the room. "Oh Clara, I see you've gotten into Mummy's makeup again," she said, smiling.
"Do I look pretty, Mummy?" asked Clara quietly.
"Oh, you look lovely," said her mother, humouring her, slightly cringing at the garish colours on her daughter's face. "Much older than eight. Come on, wipe that off, we're going to visit Grandma."