Sunday is the delegated day of worship I thought, sarcastically to myself as I coated my lashes in yet another layer of deep black mascara, or what my mother liked to call hooker eye paint.
I smirked at my reflection in my eggshell blue mirror: Hair ironed perfectly straight and glossed with a sheen, eyes more dramatic and fierce than any mousy b***h in this small town could even imagine, lips tinted the color of candy apples..perfect.
I adjusted my tight black top and racy leather skirt, sliding on heels for an added effect.
So who was I getting all dolled up for you may ask? Besides myself, of course, it was for Apostle Nate, who everyone in this tinsel town revered as the leader of our local Mormon church.
You see, I could rant day and night about what an absolute hypocritical jok
