92 days

twenty-three

Seriously thank you so much for 9k reads! I'm incredibly grateful for all who like the book, even though i still have occasional doubts about my writing lol. 

This chapter isn't my best, but I wanted to get one out quickly.

Thank you again<3

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My eyes were deadlocked on my lap as the lady dragged my hair through hell. The overheated blow-dryer burned my neck and hairline along with the rough tug of my hair being pulled up into a slick ponytail.

A painful champagne colored dress hugged my body in the worst way, the material stressed on my skin.

My late birthday present.

During their time away, they bought a replacement of the bejeweled black dress I hated oh so much the day we left for vacation. This dress isn't as bad compared to the black dress, but I still felt uncomfortable when wearing it.

My mother must think I'm a smaller size then I am, because most of the clothing she buys me never feels right.

This painful day of pampering was almost over. The constant layers of wax on my legs, the plucking eyebrow hairs, the tight hairstyles that gave me a headache, ten different shades of lipstick, seven different colors of nail polish, and a blanket of agony.

All the different smelling products made me dizzy, it was overwhelming and consuming the air of one of the guest rooms completely.

All this beautifying was for another party that was happening later in the week and my mother wanted my look to be prepared already before then.

"I think we should try one more style." My mother's pushy voice insisted, making my head throb.

I darted my eyes up to the mirror, watching the blonde lady nod in response to my mother's request, pulling the tight ponytail out of my head.

My eyelids were practically dead weight by now.

"More curls?" The lady asked, her voice thick with an Australian accent.

I watched my mother nod through the reflection of the mirror, one leg over the other as she sat in the white leather chair, her red painted fingernails clear while she scrolled through her cellphone.

When she finished my hair, it was in a half up half down style with loose curls the ends. This one felt better then the rest.

"Is this the one?" The woman asked, eyeing me and my mother back and forth.

I secretly pray in my head, hoping this would please her enough so I can leave this torture.

"This is the one." My mother grinned, relief washed over me.

She stood up from her leather chair and approached me excitedly, pressing her red fingernails into my face and turning my head to get a better look.

"The look is beautiful!" She clapped, wrapping her arms around the hairstylist. "You'll be getting your money's worth." She added on, making the woman's smile grow.

My mother grabbed her phone off the chair and left the guest room, the sound of her heels still prominent against the wood floors.

The stylist began gathering her beauty products and stuffing them in her purple duffle bag as I got up from the chair I was in and rubbed my palms down the dress.

"You can take your hair out of you'd like, I'll be back to re do it anyway." The lady spoke up to me.

"Thank you," I smiled softly, making my way out the room when her voice pauses my exit.