"Good Morning Ingrid"
The familiar voice rang throughout the small house. It was 6 in the morning and almost nothing could make me get out of my warm,soft, loving bed.
"Ingrid, were gonna' be late!" rang that voice again.
It was my mother. It was Saturday morning, and I just wanted to sleep in for once. We were driving into the city today to see my cousins. I loved them
dearly, but we couldn't wait til' 9 to depart? I wasn't going to argue. I was raised to obey my parents.
"Ingrid were gonna' be late."
I rolled outta' my bed and rubbed my bruised bottom. I stumbled to my feet, and slowly made my way to my closet. I wondered what I should wear to the city. I always wondered what I should wear. My name made me think what I should wear, as weird as that sounds. Ingrid. To me Ingrid was a girl, who lived in the city. She has huge, pale blue eyes. Dark Chocolate hair that is perfectly curled. She wore jeans with little distressing and cute girly tops. Ingrid would have a Vera Bradley bookbag. She would clip little bows in her hair. And have more shoes than hairs on her head.
I wasn't Ingrid. I was a boring 13 old year old girl living in A small town, with golden wavy hair, and a small wardrobe. I carried striped bookbag from Kohl's that i found on sale for $12.67.
I stared at my closet and first selected my prized pair of Hollister jeans, the medium wash ones with distressing on one thigh and a lil' below the knee. Now a pretty shirt. Something Ingrid would wear. I selected my pale green button-up shirt. I then tripped down the hall to my mother's closet and selected her silver braided belt. I didn't usually dress this way. Ingrid would probably put this oufit on on a lazy day.
I technically was Ingrid, just not the Ingrid I wanted to be.
