Just 19 years old, Aryanna Kollie was faced with the challenge of a lifetime: rule the continent of Africa.
Born in Washington D.C., USA, Aryanna (better known as Arya), lived a simple, quiet life. Her mother died while she was young and her father...
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I sat at my desk, a paper of a previously written speech of mine, sitting before me. The camera that was to record me was panned a little more upward than usual, to keep anything below my breast from showing. My usual wooden square desk was covered with a white fuzzy cloth, similar to the once-upon-a-time rug that was in me and Tyler's bedroom, back when it was just my bedroom.
As I looked at the brown marble floor ever so briefly, I could barely see empty space on the ground. Feet were everywhere. That made sense though, my office space wasn't the biggest in the world, and a lot of the people that were in here right now didn't exactly need to be. For example, one cameraman and one light holder would have been just fine. But instead, I have four of each.
Besides them, I also had Madam, my mom, Tyler, Marie, and a make-up artist, in case something goes left, standing around. On top of all of that, I have my dad hanging from the wall, watching us. Had this been a year ago, I would probably freak out. The tight space and everybody invading my personal space would have driven me mad. But it's been a while since then, and I have been queen for about half a year now. I am no longer that version of Arya anymore. In a better understanding, Aryanna Kollie has died.
Tomorrow is Christmas, and because I might be a borderline perfectionist, I care deeply about getting a speech that has the right amount of charisma and poise.
My hair was pulled back, or at least half of it was anyway. I bore a half up half down do, with the ends of my "down" hair being curled and my up behind in a bun that sat behind the crown of my head, evened out with the top of my ears. I wanted to try a new look and asked my hairdresser if I could have curtain bangs, but I was advised to wait until after the baby. Megan, my hairdresser, insisted that I might be a lot more impulsive given the fact that I'm pregnant, and we don't want to throw too many surprises at the commoners. Whatever, it wasn't the biggest deal in the world.
I am already nearly six months along, this baby will be here sooner than I know it and I'll be back to doing whatever I feel like. Having somebody else invade my body in the most invasive, non-invasive way is an aweing thing. It's weird, a part of me feels like all my rights have been taken away. My body is changing on its own and I have no control. But at the same time, this is the closest I have ever been to a human. Even Tyler and I have never been this close. It feels so wholesome and is a beautiful experience. Another human being is relying on my human body to help develop their own.
I was suited in a sparkly red plunging v-neck gown, one that was long-sleeved. I wore red lipstick and though nobody could see it, white ballet shoes. I was taking a break from heels, for obvious reasons. My body was much more adjusted to my baby now, who I recently was made aware was a little boy. Tyler and I have yet to find a suitable name, but I do know that I want to make a nod to my father somehow, maybe through a middle name or something.
