My Pride Is Sealed by Richter Carmen

Author:Richter, Carmen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

“Stop fidgeting, Madison,” my mom snapped at me as she fumbled with the false eyelashes. “Look up.”

“I already have plenty of eyeliner on, Mom,” I complained. “I don’t need those. I’ll look like a hooker.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady! We will deal with this attitude when we get home,” she gritted out. “Now, look up.”

I sighed and let her apply the stupid false eyelashes. It was easier than trying to fight with her over it.

The overweight, balding man who was taking my pictures for this stupid pageant came in, plastering a slimy smile on his face, and I felt like vomiting.

I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to be a normal fifteen-year-old. Was that too much to ask for?

Oh, wait. It was. Because I wasn’t normal. I was “exceptionally beautiful.” No, of course I wasn’t exceptional because I got straight A’s in school or because I’d never gotten so much as a slap on the wrist. I was exceptional because of my appearance.

My mom took the curlers out of my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders in ringlets, and proceeded to give me a headache as she sprayed a gallon of hairspray onto my head to keep my hair in place. I coughed and sputtered, squeezing my eyes shut so they wouldn’t water. I didn’t want to deal with my mom yelling at me for ruining all her “hard work.”

“Okay, stand up and let me take a look at you,” she instructed.

I sighed and stood, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked like a cross between a tacky patriotic Barbie and a prostitute, between all the makeup caked on my face and my too-short white denim shorts and too-tight red t-shirt with a sequined American flag on it.

My mom clicked her tongue as she looked at me, her face twisting in concentration while she smoothed my shirt. I could tell she wasn’t completely happy with this look.

“Deep breath in,” she instructed.

I obeyed, and before I could even register what she was doing, she adjusted the cups of my bra under my shirt and pushed my boobs up, then smoothed my shirt down again.

“Perfect,” she announced.

Had my mom really just tried to make my boobs more prominent for these pictures? What in the actual hell was wrong with her? This was not okay on so many levels.

“You look great, doll,” the photographer huffed out, and when I turned to look at him, there was no mistaking the bulge in his pants. “Ready for some pictures?”

~~~~~~

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