Primadonna Girl
'Primadonna girl. Yeah. All I ever wanted was the world. Cant help that I need it all. Primadonna life, the rise the fall. You say that I'm kind of difficult. That its always someone else's fault. Got you wrapped around my finger, babe. You can count on me to misbehave. Primadonna girl.'
I'm Hollywood's 'It Girl.' I'm who everyone is watching. I'm that bitch who designs all the fancy clothes that you'll never wear. (That's everyday stuff for me.) I'm the girl with cash who designed the lipstick that's gracing your lips as we speak. I'm big. But small. I'm spoiled. But vain. I'm rich. Yet naughty. I'm famous. Red carpet premiers are normal everyday Crap for me. And 'real', 'down to Earth' people don't exist in Hollywood. I would know. I'm definetly not one of them. But ... Maybe. Just maybe I'm wrong. But who am I kidding? What else can I say? Put yourself in my Marc Jacobs designer black pumps. I'm Estelle. Estelle Enid to be exact. Remember that name.
You can count on me to misbehave.
But all I want is to be adored.
Why?
I'm a Primadonna girl.
All I have ever wanted was the world. Possibly more.
But there is more to me then you could possibly imagine, honey.
'All I ever wanted was the world.'
...
Preview:
My makeup counter is full. Hundreds of dollars worth of powders and glosses sat upon the surface of the painted-white desk. Everything was perfectly organized. And my name was carved into every last lip-stick. My beauty line to be exact. The crimson red glowed onto my lips and nearly made them look as if fire was catching on to them. I turned the cap over, catching a glimpse of my fresh French manicure that I just had remarkably done this morning. 'Estelle Enid Original' it glowed off the plastic.
With a sly smirk upon my lips, I stretched off my chair, standing up straight to see my reflection.
Perfect as always.
Dark brown haired that had just been freshly curled.
A floral patterned white dress that made my legs look as if they went on for miles. Originally designed by me, of course.
Eight karot solid diamond stud earrings from my Mothers collection. Speccially designed for my sensitive ears.
And most importantly, Cream colored pumps to too it off.
Yes. You could call me spoiled. Yes. You could call me Hollywood's 'It Girl.' Yes. You can call me vain.
But honestly...
What else can I say?
I'm just a Primadonna girl. . .
And all I have ever wanted out of life was the world.
A confident breath escaped my lips and I tore my solid gaze away from my reflection once more. I caught myself staring at me all the time. Gorgeous as ever. Not even giving the slightest care of what others thought.
Some say I was your typical starlette.
Others say I'm a snotty, long legged, bitch who doesn't have her little brunette head screwed on just right.
And yes.
I would consider that to be true.
But I had buisness elsewhere this time around. A big red carpett preimiere no less. Steven Spielberg had just launched off a new movie. Starring Mark Wahlberg. And yes. Some Canadian nobody with nice hair. But I could never remember his name.
And when Steven asked me a year ago to be in it, I polietly declined.
Of course.
I was far too busy being me.
