One Day at a Time

Chapter 4 - My Reflection.

         Closing the blinds, I clambered into bed, knowing that it was going to be the best night sleep I have ever had.  

                                                                              +++  

         And, goddamn, it was. I woke up to light seeping through the corners of the blinds, and I unwillingly get out of bed and walked into the bathroom.

          I stripped naked, throwing my pyjamas into the washing up basket by the door, and turned on the shower. The water was warm and blazed my skin with heat. I haven't had a shower like this in ages. Hell, I haven't even showered in hot water properly. Back in London, we only had ten minutes of hot water a day, because the boiler was broken and mother couldn't afford to fix it. So, we suffered, and managed to share it out equally. Even the hot water wasn't even hot water though. It was warm enough, but there was still streaks of water through it every now and again. One day I had ten minutes to shower, the next it was my brother, then my mother. And after that, we used the ten minutes to wash up. The only reason I was able to get into University was because mum contacted my father and asked him to pay. He said yes, because I was his daughter.

         The half hour I spent in that shower was pure bliss. I walked out of the hot water, and wrapped a soft, clean white towel around my bare body. It was now cold outside the shower. When I woke up it wasn't cold, why is it cold now? Obviously, the shower at home wasn't hot enough to make the house feel cold, and I guess it was good, since we couldn't afford heating. I waltzed into the walk-in-wardrobe and selected my outfit for the day, which was more difficult than it should've been, because there were too many clothes to choose from. I didn't bother with makeup, because I didn't want to waste well-needed money on it, so I had no idea how to actually do it well. I'll ask Vanessa at breakfast. The only thing I used in the drawers in the vanity table were bobbles. So, I sat on the fluffy stool placed in front of it, and picked up the brush and started brushing my hair. It was the easiest it ever has been, because I used conditioner. 

          I sat there for a good half-hour attempting to tie my hair in a high ponytail, and as if on cue, the someone knocked on my bedroom door. I stood up, gritting my teeth through anger, and walked toward the door. It was Nessa. 

          "Thank god you're here, Ness. I need desperate help!" I said over-dramatically. "Can you tie my hair up please?" I asked, pleadingly. 

          She laughed and nodded, walking towards my closet. I sat down in the chair, and she, almost effortlessly, pulled my hair up with the brush and pulled the bobble around it. 

          "Whilst I'm here, do you need help with makeup, too?" She laughed, opening the drawer of untouched makeup. I nodded and she got to work, putting powders on my face and smearing liquids over my skin. 

          By the time she was done, it had been twenty minutes. I looked in the mirror, eyes wide with shock, and said, "Who is this, in the mirror?" She laughed. 

         My reflection looked like me, with the same eyes and same nose and lips, but I didn't have long, black eyelashes, and I didn't have big, natural coloured lips. I didn't have long, curly hair, and I, most importantly, did not look like a model, dolled up to be in the next biggest magazine. My hair was tied right on top of my head, and my eyes stood out more, with a brighter shade to them than before, with the perfected winged eyeliner. 

          I stood up and walked in front of the long, full body mirror and I pulled on the yellow, lace bralette top I had chosen, and dusted off the bleached denim, high-waisted and ripped jeans I had on. I clicked my peep-toe stilettos I had picked from the hundreds of heels in my new collection and stared at myself.

          This version of me was beautiful. 

          My reflection.