It's a blessing to be the most beautiful girl in your community.
Or it's supposed to be.
All my life I've grown up to be regarded as a doll, an artifact which people fawn over and adore.
I know it sounds great but unlike every other person around me, I hate it. In fact, hate isn't strong enough to describe how I feel about it.
“Are you kidding?” My best friend, Sara, would yell every time I complained that I felt suffocated with all the attention. “Every girl wants to be you. I want to be you!”
My mother would go ahead to say, “You don't know how blessed you are to be this beautiful. You've brought us a lot of luck and fortune. This is your destiny, Tira, live with it.”
Sometimes, it's easier to convince myself about the destiny part. If God didn't think I could handle it, He wouldn't make me have the jet-black hair which cascades down to my waist in wavy torrents.
Or thick eyelashes shielding my round eyelids and sea green eyes. Neither would He have created my nose to be straight and perfect, nor my lips to be the exact, plump shape of love.
Every day I wake up and stare at this face in the mirror, the words that come to mind are, “This attractiveness is a burden.” And the next words that follow are, “How on earth can I escape it?”
I've not found an answer to that question for the past eighteen years.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Sara plops another pebble into the pond before us. Her chestnut hair pulled back into a bun on her head.
She never likes to let her hair down, even when I think it's pretty when she does so.
“Nothing much,” I shrug my slender shoulders. “I'm just thinking of the contest in thirty days.”
“Listen Tira, the only thing you should be thinking about is how you'd get on that stage and show the world how beautiful you are. I wish I could be in a beauty contest too…” she sighs wistfully.
There's no need convincing her that she has the most beautiful set of white teeth anyone has ever laid eyes on. Or that her dimples and round, hazel eyes make her look like a fairy.
“But seriously, Sara. I don't want this contest. I already have to deal with men flocking into my house on an hourly basis to ask for my hand in marriage. I can't even get to be the woman I want to be….”
“Tira, you want to sing twinkle twinkle little star with orphans! That's not an ambition that's worth leaving all of this for.” She spreads her hands dramatically at the “all of this.”
She's right. My ambition doesn't sound like much but I can't forget the sorrowful look on those orphans’ faces when I visited one of their homes seven years ago.
I've carried that dream to replace those looks with smiles ever since. And no one has ever understood it.
“Look, I know it doesn't sound like much but why can't anyone respect that it's what I want to do?”
“Well hello ma'am but your contest is fully sponsored by the most wealthy man in this community. You go up there, shine like you always do, win the contest, and then you can see as many orphans as you wish.”
A little tsk slips through my teeth. “You wish. If I win, Fredrick Hampston’s going to ask for my hand in marriage. He already told my parents. I need a way out of this. I can't spend the rest of my life being the young wife to an old divorcee.”
Sara shakes her head. For the first time since I've complained about this contest, she sees my point. We both detest Hampston, especially because he always uses his wealth to prove a point to less wealthy individuals.
He made Sara's dad leave his job. Their family hasn't recovered financially since then.
We both sit there listening to the plopping of pebbles into the pond until Sara scrambles to her feet excitedly.
“What if we switch places? You can teach me all there is to know about the contest while I give you my ticket to the summer camp mom registered me for….”
“But Sara, Hampston would definitely know the difference between both of us. We're not even the same height.”
She stops to think for another second then smiles. “What if you play dead? Hampston would never look for you again and you can finally get to escape this draining life you've always detested.”
That's the best idea I've ever heard. I'm an adult now and I can do whatever I want once I'm away from this particular community.
But I can only leave if I die. My arms wrap appreciatively around Sara's neck. If this is the only ticket I have, then I must go and die a successful death.
Image is not mine
Posted Using INLEO
I feel like we had just got to an interesting part in the story... and then you pulled the plug. Sara feels stuck in the beauty industry but who is forcing her to stay there? Her parents? How? Why can't she simply not take part in these contests? What is stopping her from going to work with the kids? I feel like this isn't fully fleshed out so we miss out on the real source of tension in the story. When her friend makes the suggestion that the only way Sara can truly escape is to fake her own death, we don't see this part of the story play out. We don't see if she succeeds. We don't see what she learns or gains from it. I think if the first half of the story had been developed more in terms of the inner and outer conflicts in Sara's life, and if you had shown that she really had no other options, no real control over her own life, then the ending... to "go and die a successful death" would have landed better. As things stand, the solution she chooses feels a bit dramatic and drastic within the context of what is shared. With a little reworking this could be a very good piece!
Thank you so much for your feedback. I really appreciate what you said, and I see how I can do better next time.
In my next story, I will make sure to show more about what the character is feeling, what’s stopping them, and why they make the choices they do, so the ending makes more sense.
I’m excited to keep learning and growing. Thank you, again.
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STOPTalk of someone having a burden being naturally pretty, what a lot of women would die for.
I think I understand that part of men flocking around her, wanting to marry her when she'd rather be doing something she loves.
Well I wish Tira a happy escape and a successful "death".
Hello, @sherah
What a ticket! I have met people with this problem: being beautiful and besieged to the point of non-conformity. Thank God I am quite ugly. Ha, ha, ha, ha.
I liked your story.
“Listen Tira, the only thing you should be thinking about is how you'd get on that stage and show the world how beautiful you are. I wish I could be in a beauty contest too…” she sighs wistfully.
I see in this sentence how she defines the success of the beauty pageant and also the self-esteem she can give herself. However, she chooses to impersonate someone. In the end, it helped her win the ticket, even if she had to fake her death. A very witty story. Well done. @sherah
I was so confused until I saw the tag #fiction.
Very well written! 👏🏼
!BBH
Successful death.
It's amazing how storytelling can paint or put two opposite words together. I love your story. The dialogue was nicely paced made your story beautiful to read.
I love your story.
Being beautiful is what some women would die for, it's funny reading about someone who sees it as a burden. Wishing Tira the best though
Beauty can be a burden atimes, but with wisdom, one can make it an asset. Thanks for sharing.
Beauty is never a burden to me but I guess ladies who are extremely beautiful see it as one.
Lovely story!
Beauty is burden? Well it can be at times and delay some processes because of circumstances surrounding it