Make Me Over

Chapter 1: The Controversy

I am Claire Hartley. Daughter of the best female model Diane Jackson. I am getting a makeover.

Why?

My boyfriend hates my looks.

-

-

-

-

"Damn," Chase Diggory, my hot as hell but a bad-ass boyfriend muttered, his fingers crawling through my strawberry blonde hair, "I just love the hair, but not the rest."

And of course I had to go and pretend I just didn't hear that.

We were in my premium lux condo, ones that are reserved by five-star celebrities. Duh, my mother, is a top model that girls wish to be and the type that guys chase and fall head-over-heels (literally) for her.

Oh, and my father too. I just don't love him as much as my mother. My father is a A-list actor who, like normal A-listers, stars in every sizzling hot movie. And those who gets invited to those random oh-hello-this-is-a-TV-show-where-you-can-listen-to-us-talking-to-A-listers-celebrities.

So yeah, I got the condo.

When I was born, I came out weighting a delicate weight. When I as toddler, kids in nursery were tempted to shove their pretty little fingers into my honey blonde curls.

When I was in elementary school, kids began to get jealous of me. You know, being that girl who's parents are rich, lives in a wealthy as hell place, and has great looks.

I remember back in second grade, I had to stop jogging and pull back my strawberry blonde curls (my locks turns strawberry blonde in the sunlight) into a high ponytail.

Then one of the jealous girls, Melinda Green, I presume, dumped a cup of lime and kiwi juice on my head. Thanks a lot, Melinda Green, for making my head and my curls stinky.

Anyways, back to my boyfriend...

He was still staring into and at my twinkling, sapphire blue eyes. "Keep those," he whispering into my ear, "I like 'em."

Then he pulled away, "I hate your face."

I don't know what wrong with my face, so I lifted a hand up and touched my face.

Nothing was wrong.

So I raged.

(Note that this is quite violent and disturbing for people who, maybe hasn't swore before. If you'll read it and blab this to your parents or friends saying this is BS (people who swear will know this) I recommend NOT to blab it to others and keep this crap or yourself.)

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Chase?" I stood up, knocking a pile of old "The Daily Courier" local newspaper and a couple "Elle" and "Teen Vogue" magazine.

Chase bit his lip and back away from me.

"Shit." I heard him say.

"Hate me? Go and shoo. Why keep me as a girlfriend that has a non-perfect face?" I shouted at him. Lucky my parents were in Orlando, in a two-month long honeymoon.

"No one has a perfect face, Chase. I didn't even get to say your face is ugly and destructive!" I grabbed a nearby large knife and whirled it violently at Chase.

Chase's mouth dropped and hanged in mid-air, taken my surprise by my mean and super bitchy side and personality of me, which, I keep it hidden inside my super-phony face.

"Guess what? Chase, I'll tell you what. Go and get the damn outta my house and find yourself some crap like Melinda Green in second grade as your girlfriend!"

Chase looked stunned by some crap I don't know about, then, cleared his throat and snapped back at me.

"How did you know that I am dating Melinda Green?"