Being Pretty

5. did she just call me an ugly whore?

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**unedited**

                             

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I was really on edge beacuse my mother held me up for my first twenty four hours.

You know what we had to do?

Dress picking.

For the stupid parade.

I would have loved to show off my beauty and make everyone jealous of me...if they aren't already. I would have, if it didn't mean missing my only chance to become a good person again.

Sometimes, it haunts me how shallow I am.

I'm disgusted but it's like I can't help it. It's as if I'm not in control of what I think or what I say and it scares me.

 My mother seems to just love this new me though, and as shallow as I’ve gotten, I still hate the parade with ever fiber in my body.

 Ugh.

It also frightens me when she’s so nice sometimes, I expect her to come her senses all of a sudden and disown me or something.

“Ooh. This dress is gorgeous, Preston is going to love you in it.” My mom cooed. She held up a blue dress that was silky and long and it hand one strap with diamonds embellished onto it.

I shook my head. “I don’t like it.” I lied.

But it was actually very pretty, I’ve just been saying that for every single dress we saw so that she’ll hopefully get fed up.

“Don’t be silly, it’s terrific.” My mom argued.

“Yeah, well you’re not the one wearing it. The answer is no.”

My mom grunted and put it back. “We haven’t made any progress today.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank God.”

“You’d better fix your attitude young lady. I do not take kindly to you sassing me.” She scolded.

I sighed. “Sorry.”

“Good. Now listen, you’re a young beautiful lady and we’re going to find a beautiful dress, okay?” She pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “You’ll be perfect at that ball.”

I swatted her hand off of me, raising my eyebrows. “Since when was I beautiful?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked.

“You didn’t even acknowledge my existence when I was ugly and now I’m a young beautiful lady!?” I screeched.

She frowned at me. “Now that’s not fair.”

“Yeah. It’s not fair to me. I’m sorry mo- actually, you don’t deserve that name, because you're not a mother, Helga." I said, calling my mother by her actual name.

“What did you just call me?” She hissed.

By now we were attracting a crowd, I decided to say it all, my life can’t get any worse than it was before.