Suddenly Super (On Hold)

Suddenly Super

                The first thing you should know about me is I’m average.  I get average grades and have average looks.  I’m not the next Scarlett Johansson, or this generation’s Marilyn Monroe.   Just average, nothing special Jocelyn Meyers. 

                That is, until I became a superhero.

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                “Sweetie, come down here!”  I groaned, running a hand through my thick, wavy deep copper hair and un-fogging my thick glasses from the hot bathroom.  It was official; I had no time.  After tripping clumsily under my neon pj’s on the ground, I picked myself up and padded through my bedroom. 

                Rummaging through my drawers, I was able to find my grandma’s old, aged and baggy brown sweater and a pair of old Levi’s.  The sweater completely engulfed me, hiding my hourglass figure and making me look 10 pounds heavier.  My tiny waist was sadly camouflaged.  And I had no idea. 

It was out of style, sure, but unfortunately, out of style was my style.  Back then, again, I really had no idea.

                I slipped on my torn up high tops, grabbing my old denim book bag and rushing down stairs.  But of course, I hadn’t realized my shoes were still untied, causing in my ungraceful tumble down the last few steps. 

                I looked up, to see my mother shaking her head above me, the clacking of her heels whilst she tapped her foot drilling into my head. 

                “Look, now you’re going to have a giant bruise on your leg.”  She waited for me to unceremoniously regroup myself, standing to her height.  “What are all the judges going to say?” 

                I sighed, “Mom, I said I’m not going to that model audition tomorrow.”  Before we go further, I have to explain.  My mother is the epitome of pushy, beautiful, former-cheerleader-turned-ex-wannabe-model-mom.  Now, she has decided to bestow the great burden of striding to become a stunning supermodel on me. 

                You see, back in the day she was on her way to stardom with her big hair and big head.  But she had a fling with a photographer, probably to suck up, resulting in her being pregnant with me.  And instead of channeling all her hatred because of her ruined career and body to her daughter, she did so to the poor photographer.  By suing him for all he was worth.

                “And honey, you know that I have the veto power here.”  She laughed her musical, perfect laugh.  “They’ll die for your hair… but, I suppose we’ll have to put some concealer on that bruise.”

                I rolled my eyes, following her out to her shiny Mercedes Benz. 

                “You might have to get a ride back from school, I’ll be working late at the firm tonight.”  Somehow, after a ruined supermodel career, a few liposuctions and business-man seductions later, she was able to climb to the top of the lawyer tower.  She now owned her own firm, to be detailed.

                    You might think I resent my mother, for being the opposite of prude (putting it nicely) and forcing me through all this.  But she could have either aborted me, and I would not be here today, or put all her hate on me.  Instead, she’s trying, in her odd, twisted way, to give me the best life she possibly can.  It’s just that… some parts of that, I may not want.

                The drive to school was silent as usual, she had me turn on E! News in the back, although secretly I was just listening to my iPod.  I would not be brain washed by the gossipy-sappy-celebrity nonsense to become the airheaded stick insect my mother wanted me to be.