InstaFamous

Chapter 6 - My Blondeness Is Damaging My Brain

CHAPTER 6

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If there's one thing I hate more than popularity, it'd be makeovers.

Specifically hair, makeup and fashion makeovers.

Ever since the evil Mother Gothel 2.0 forced me into 'fame', I've been featured and required to sing in shows for the whole week. I was brutally tortured by wearing skimpy dresses and heels higher than any normal being would wear.

"What do you think we should do with the hair? It looks dead." I watched as a stylist played with my hair and lifted it up like it was some disgusting piece of trash.

Another stylist tried to comb it unsuccessfully. "This is the definition of disaster! What on earth do you do with your hair, shampoo it with turds? Do you even condition?"

"I've got no one to impress, so who cares?" I said nonchalantly.

They both looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. One said to the other, "I think she got hit in the head when she was a baby."

I rolled my eyes. Just as I was about to make a snarky remark, Paul entered the room.

"How's the makeover doing?"

I glared at him. "Not good in any way."

To give you a little heads up, my brother here requested the witch to be my personal manager. He manages all my schedules, says yes to every invite, and does his best to make me the superstar he wants me to be.

Basically he's trying to ruin my peaceful life. Isn't he a sweetie?

"Mr. Vloski, unfortunately the client needs extreme measures and changes. It'll take about three hours to shape her up." One of the stylists said.

Psh, extreme measures my butt. They should just tell the truth and say that they want me to be a fake dollette with highlights, thick lips and a face lift.

Paul smiled. "Cool. I'll be back within an hour to check out how things progress. Bye sis!"

I refused to look at him and muttered under my breath. "Don't sis me, aggravating donut."

Fortunately only the stylists heard me and Paul waved at me before leaving. As soon as he was gone, the stylists started snickering.

"Pft, donut." She stifled.

I rolled my eyes. "You're the donut. Let's just get this over with, please?"

They straightened up and started talking like professional stylists.

"We should dye her hair. I think it'd look better."

"What color should it be?"

"I'm thinking hot red. It would absolutely get everyone's attention!"

"Red is overrated. Have you seen Danice Jean's hair? Ugh, total eyesore!"

"Well how about a lighter shade of brown, like chestnut or hazel?"

"I don't think people would notice that."

Twenty minutes and a load of colors later, I groaned. "Quit it with the hair talk already! Just dye it blonde for all I care!"

Imagine my surprise when they both looked at me with shining eyes. They looked at each other and grinned.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" One of them said.

She jumped up and down. "Yes! I always wanted bleach on someone!"

"No you idiot. Honeydew!" She argued.