P.S.: No funnies here. This is a serious one. Hope you like it!
It was late in the morning. She stood in front of the mirror. The car was downstairs, waiting for her. She didn't care.
She was too busy admiring herself. Her jet-black hair, almond-shaped eyes, luscious lips and fantastic body had made her the envy of every woman and the desire of every man in town. And she knew it.
She picked up her toothbrush and began her routine, oblivious to the incessant honks.
It was a star-studded affair. She arrived fashionably late. Every head in the room turned, almost as if synchronized, when she entered the room. In her arm, she had another man. She never went out in the same dress or with the same man more than once.
She walked around the ballroom, moving effortlessly from one group to the other, talking about everything from politics to sport. That's the thing about her - she wasn't just a pretty face. She was a force to be reckoned with, on and off the catwalk.
Waiters swarmed around the room in careful, choreographed paths offering hors d'oeuvres to the guests. She picked up a few and began eating. People around her asked her how she could afford to eat when she was a top model. She gave a silvery laugh and continued to eat.
It was late in the night. She stood in front of the mirror. Her date was on the bed, waiting for her. She didn't care.
She took a deep breath and noticed that her stomach was slightly convex. No problem, that could be taken care of.
She picked up her toothbrush and stuck in down her throat.
It was late in the morning. She stood in front of the mirror. The car was downstairs, waiting for her. She didn't care.
She was too busy admiring herself. Her jet-black hair, almond-shaped eyes, luscious lips and fantastic body had made her the envy of every woman and the desire of every man in town. And she knew it.
She picked up her toothbrush and began her routine, oblivious to the incessant honks.
It was a star-studded affair. She arrived fashionably late. Every head in the room turned, almost as if synchronized, when she entered the room. In her arm, she had another man. She never went out in the same dress or with the same man more than once.
She walked around the ballroom, moving effortlessly from one group to the other, talking about everything from politics to sport. That's the thing about her - she wasn't just a pretty face. She was a force to be reckoned with, on and off the catwalk.
Waiters swarmed around the room in careful, choreographed paths offering hors d'oeuvres to the guests. She picked up a few and began eating. People around her asked her how she could afford to eat when she was a top model. She gave a silvery laugh and continued to eat.
It was late in the night. She stood in front of the mirror. Her date was on the bed, waiting for her. She didn't care.
She took a deep breath and noticed that her stomach was slightly convex. No problem, that could be taken care of.
She picked up her toothbrush and stuck in down her throat.
2 comments:
holy smokes.. :-)
I don't get it...how can they stick a brush down their throat when all I feel like doing when Im feeling low is stick a chocolate down my throat!
aah.. m just not like those girls..I accept defeat
Thank god we aren't like this, right? I mean, who can be happy like this! Although the way I have written the story, I have made her happy about it...she cares only about her body :)
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