Thursday, April 7, 2011
The following is a work of fiction.
Fiona looked herself over in the full length mirror. She wore her favorite magenta blouse with her second favorite pencil skirt. She gave a little turn and looked to make sure her butt looked nice. It always did, but it never hurt to check. Besides admiring herself in the mirror was probably her favorite thing. She inspected her makeup. She knew just how accentuate her green eyes. Her beautiful full lips were understated. She knew she was every man’s fantasy.
She brushed her long blond hair one last time before heading out the door. She took the stairs down from her apartment. Fiona never neglected to do the right thing when it came to keeping up her looks, because she knew that was her one and only asset. She wished she were brainy or confident or had the gift of gab. Anything. She sometimes would have preferred to be pretty instead of beautiful and have other talents. What she really wanted was to stay gorgeous and have talents.
As she stepped out onto the street she noticed the eyes, the wandering eyes of the men and the glaring stares of the women. She walked down the street as though she didn’t notice as always. The sad truth was that though she liked her job and was reasonably educated she couldn’t help but wish there was more. She wanted more and didn’t know what that was. Things came pretty easily to the beautiful women, but for once she wanted to be noticed for something else. If there was something else.
She walked into work on time as usual. As she made her way to her desk she saw him. Her fantasy. Every woman’s fantasy more like. He was tall and handsome and had the kind of brains and common sense that turned everyone on (even other men, but in a different way).
Fiona started to panic a little as he headed her way. He started talking to her, but she was too caught up in her own thoughts to understand what it was he was saying. “I-I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” She mentally shot herself in the head.
“Repeat what?” He gave a bit of an arrogant smirk.
“Um, what you just said. I wasn’t paying attention. Uh, sorry.”
“You mean when I asked you how you are and you gave me a blank stare?”
“Yeah, I guess.” She gave an embarrassed smile. Her cheeks were probably as red as beets.
“Hoow aaaare yoou?” He drew out his words like he was talking to someone who was mentally handicapped or a toddler.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just fine. Uh, I’ve got to get to work. See you , Fred!” She bolted to her desk and started frantically looking around for something to do. Jesus Christ, he must think I’m a beautiful dumb ass. A Bimbo. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. I AM an idiot.
From that point on Fiona determined that she would make it her goal to get Fred to notice that she was indeed NOT an idiot. That would be her new fantasy. A fantasy made real.