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Different


Before

Trinyx stayed just under the surface of the waves, watching the beautiful creature with the bouncing hair react to the lecherous older one. She worried when she saw the angry expression cross the young human’s face, wondering what had angered him so, as she watched him shove the other man out of the way. Trinyx felt as though her very self was being pulled toward the handsome boy as he stomped angrily away from the ship’s rail, until she noticed a splash in the waves next to her. She moved away in disgust when she realized what it was- one of the other less-attractive humans was leaning over the side of the ship, retching into the sea. She was filled with fury that he was polluting her ocean in such a way, and wanted to jump up and  grab the man, pull him into the water, and swim down to the deepest depths with him where she knew he would perish. Instead, she swam close to the body of the ship, and indignantly banged her tail against the wood several times.

As she swam away toward her home, she looked back, and saw several of the men looking confused and leaning over the ship’s rail, peering into the water, wondering what sort of fish had rammed their boat. Trinyx glimpsed the dark-haired man too, who seemed to be looking directly at her, though she knew it was too dark for him to see that far. She lifted her pale hand in a useless gesture, and thought she imagined the man raise his own hand in return. The waves moved    her, and she pushed her tail against them , diving into the night-black water.

Far below the moonlit surface of the ocean, Trinyx slowed her movements, realizing how close she had been to a human. She thought of how soft his hair had been between her fingers, and how it had sprung so lightly from them. She weaved her fingers between the ropey lengths of her own hair that was billowing out around her, and let it go, watching it lazily drift in the leftover currents of her swimming. A few small fishes glides through it, and she swatted them away, perturbed.

She felt melancholy now, now that she had felt the air on her thick skin. She had never felt the pressure of the water surrounding her, but she felt it now, and she wanted to be back against the ship, looking into the expressive eyes of the alluring young man again. She thought of him and wondered if his skin would feel like hers, and she ran her hands down her torso, over her breasts and down her belly, until she felt scales that led into a lengthy tail. She looked at her tail, the tail that was the envy of her sisters, with it’s rainbow of purple and green and silvery scales, and decided it was not at all beautiful. Her fingertips felt over the coarse scales, and she wanted to feel what it was like to stand on two legs like the humans on the ship had.

The man’s eyes had been one color, and though she had never seen her own, she knew from looking into her sisters’ faces that mermaid eyes were an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors, and she thought to herself how uninteresting that was- as she had watched the man, she could see within his eyes a flurry of emotions, whereas when she watched her sisters, the constant color shift in their eyes made it completely impossible to know what they were thinking.

She had let the man’s sounds wash over her; how different they had been from her own! From the things her grandmother had told her, human voices were terrible to listen to, and humans themselves were seemingly possessed when offered a mermaid song, but Trinyx had liked the sound of his words- they were not melodious as a mermaid’s, no, but still pleasing to the ear in their own way.

She fingered the silver chain that was tied in her hair, and pushed the little button that had released the tiny door. She cried out when she saw that the picture inside was beginning to disintegrate already, and she shut it again quickly, hoping to preserve the likeness of the woman who looked like her human. She gripped the locket tightly to her chest, and was amazed that she cared so for this man, this creature who was so unlike her. She swam in circles, wondering what she was to do now.  Bubbles and fish floated out of her way as she did so. She was forbidden to have contact with the upper world, but there was one thing she knew for certain- she had to see him again.

 

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Plain


I received perhaps the best compliment ever from a coworker the other day without him having said barely a word.

This coworker happened to be the self-proclaimed douche I’ve mentioned in past posts. While I find him hilarious to work with, I can understand why some people would find him offensive. Mainly, because he is offensive. He has no qualms about telling people exactly what he thinks or giving them shit when he thinks they are being ridiculous. He enjoys spending the work hours he shares with me doing this exact thing, because he finds my flirtatious nature absolutely ridiculous, yet we get along great, because I have no problem agreeing with him on his self-proclamation of ass-holery.

Anyhoo, we were discussing a coworker’s wife who had come in to dine, and I pointed out that she really was quite plain. As always, the conversation turned to the subject of me (because, after all, everything IS all about me) and I stated something along the lines of- “I realize that I am very plain, but that woman was expecially so.” At that comment, the self-proclaimed douche’s eyes widened and he shook his head as I continued to ramble on about the saddery of plainness. When I noticed this, I stopped in my lecture, and he simply said, “Sparkle, you’re not plain.”

Coming from someone who finds me mostly ridiculous and frivolous, I found this to be a great compliment, especially since I am deathly afraid of being unnoticeable.

With all the beautiful people in the world, I find it most exhausting to try to even reach the bottom rung of the Beauty Ladder. While I admit that I do have relatively nice skin, when I wake up in the morning, I find nothing whatsoever in the mirror that stands out (at least in a good way.) I am pale, my eye color is an un-interesting poop shade, and my nose is too bulbous to be defined as “small”. I jazz all this up by swooping on brightly colored shades of eyeshadow, and applying glitter or blush to my cheeks.

It is true that my wardrobe reflects my inner showgirl. I own almost nothing that doesn’t sparkle or shine. However, I still find myself to be a plain girl playing dress-up in Dolly Parton’s closet.

So, it’s nice to see that at least one person has noticed my excessive tries to avoid Plaindom. Even if he is a douche.

P.S. I must point out here that looks aren’t everything, but to quote Freud- “Beauty has no obvious use; nor is there any clear cultural necessity for it. Yet civilization could not do without it.”

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Things I Can Imagine About Myself If I Don’t Look In A Mirror


I have a problem with mirrors. As in, I look great if I don’t look into one. My self -confidence is at such a level that I can sashay around feeling glamorous and stunning; until I look in the mirror ;then  my stunningness melts into a puddle around my 5″ heels. So I’ve decided, instead of telling you what I know about myself, to quote Anne of Green Gables- “If you let me tell you what I imagine about myself  you’d find it a lot more interesting. “

1. It’s easy to imagine I have the 42″ in-seam of Stacey Keibler, until I look in a mirror and realize my Short Length jeans are dragging on the ground.

2. I like to imagine I have the pale alabaster skin of Nicole Kidman, or Queen Elizabeth, until I look in the mirror and see that my pale skin is blotchy and uneven.

3. As I cannot look into my own eyes, it is easy to imagine the color of my eyes is cerulean blue (that was always my favorite color crayon), that is, until I look in a mirror and see that my eyes are, in fact, just a poopy brown color.

4. It’s nice to imagine that my Sweater Meat actually looks good under a sweater, until I look into a mirror and realize that I just look fat in sweaters.

5. To the touch, my thighs and ass compare to steel; that in no way helps me when I attempt to fit them into a pair of stylish low-rise jeans. (I come out looking like I have two asses)

6. I like to pretend that I have the curly flowing locks of a Bavarian princess (I don’t actually know if Bavaria has princesses, but it sounded good) until I look in the mirror and remember I need 4 different kinds of hair product to make the frizz on my head acceptable for public display.

7. It’s easy to imagine that I have a full desirable face and figure (like Scarlett Johanssen), until I look in a mirror and see that those little statues of Buddha and I have disturbingly similiar features.

8. I imagine my neck is one to be spoken of reverently in poetry, perhaps being decribes as long and slender, and then I look in the mirror and realize I should change my name to Sparklebumps NoNeck.

9. My boss Frenchie once described me as “having an hourglass figure”. I was excited until I looked in the mirror and realized he must have been looking THROUGH an hourglass  when he described my figure. (Because honestly, there is only a two inch difference between my waist and hips)

10. I like to imagine I have an attractive beauty mark that girls will one day imitate with piercings, like Cindy Crawford or Marilyn, but then I look in the mirror and see I display a multitude of “beauty marks” that will in no way be duplicated appealingly.

11. It’s easy to imagine I have a Dolly Parton rack, until I remember I don’t have as much money as she does to maintain it.

Oh well, at least my feet look cute in shoes…

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