Princess 02 - Princess In The Spotlight by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot [Cabot, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2011-03-17T04:00:00+00:00

Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

I believe that Mr. Emerson was talking about the fact that you are

only given one life to live, and so you had better make the best of it.

This idea is best illustrated by a movie I saw on the Lifetime Channel

while I was sick. The movie was called Who Is Julia? In this movie,

Mare Winningham portrays Julia, a woman who wakes up one day

after an accident to discover that her body has been completely

destroyed and her brain transplanted into someone whose body was

okay but whose brain had ceased functioning. Since Julia formerly

was a fashion model and now her brain is in a housewife’s body

(Mare Winningham’s), she is understandably upset. She goes around

banging her head against things because she is no longer blond, five

foot ten, and a hundred and ten pounds.

But finally, through Julia’s husband’s undying devotion to her—

despite her iffy new looks and a brief kidnapping by the housewife’s

psychotic husband, who wants her to come back home to do his

laundry—Julia realizes that looking like a model isn’t as important as

not being dead.

This movie raises the inevitable question, If your body was

destroyed in an accident, and they had to transplant your brain into

someone else’s body, whose body would you want it to be? After

considerable thought, I have decided that I would most want to be in

the body of Michelle Kwan, the Olympic ice skater, since she is very

pretty and has a marketable skill. And as everyone knows, it is quite

stylish these days to be Asian.

Either Michelle or Britney Spears, so I could finally have bigger

breasts.

Wednesday, October 29, English

Well, one thing is for sure:

Having a guy like my cousin Hank follow you around from class to

class certainly keeps people’s minds off the idiot you made of

yourself on TV the other night.

Seriously. Not that the cheerleaders have forgotten all about the

whole Twenty Four/Seven thing—I’m still getting the evil eye in the

hallway every once in a while. But as soon as their gazes flicked over

me and settled on Hank, something seemed to happen to them.

I couldn’t figure out what it was, at first. I thought it was just that

they were so stunned to see a guy in a flannel shirt and overalls in the

middle ofManhattan .

Then I slowly started realizing it was something else. I guess Hank

is sort of buff, and he does have sort of nice blond hair that kind of

hangs in his pretty-boy-blue eyes.

But I think it’s something even more than that. It’s like Hank is

giving off those pheromones we studied in Bio, or something.

Only I can’t sense them, because I am related to him.

As soon as girls notice Hank, they sidle up to me and whisper “Who

is that?” while gazing longingly at Hank’s biceps, which are actually

quite pronounced beneath all that plaid.

Take Lana Weinberger, for instance. There she was, hanging around

my locker, waiting for Josh to show up so the two of them could take

part in their morning face-suckage ritual, when Hank and I appeared.

Lana’s eyes—heavily circled

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