The past two nights of work I had very little sleep prior to work and found myself wide awake way before my alarm clock’s annoying screeches and so took the opportunity to actually pretend to care about my appearance. I decided to do the girl thing and wear makeup. Anyone who has ever met me will know that this is not something I am prone to do, but I found myself applying blusher and eye-shadow and eye-liner and mascara and the base-coat and top-coat of Color-Stay lipstick. I also bothered to actually put on halfway decent clothing and fix my hair and since my new electric toothbrush has a timer on it I have been brushing my teeth for two minutes non-stop. Anyway, so when I got to work my coworkers kept telling me that I looked pretty and I kept telling them thank you whilst trying to make myself invisible and shyly staring at the tiles on the floor and wishing that I could go back in time and take off my makeup. Then, of course, by the end of the night the mascara and eye-liner had traveled down to further darken the pre-existing circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer seems to manage to conceal and by the end of the night my lipstick had dried up and much of it had smeared off even though the name Color-Stay modestly suggests that perhaps the color might be around for a significant length of time and by the end of the night my blusher and eye-shadow had all been rubbed or sweated off. Needless to say, I looked affright. Then, this morning, upon getting off of work at 6:25 AM and knowing that I did not have to worry about work until 11:00 PM Wednesday evening when I would have to get ready, I decided to go to Robert’s apartment and sleep over there until he had to leave for work at 2:00 this afternoon. When I woke up to his alarm clock’s annoying screeches and started getting prepared for leaving, I noticed that my hair had decided to imitate the nineteen-seventies-style hair (one big puff) and that my eye-makeup had even further traveled down under my eyes. Not only that, but my usually alabaster pallor is even worse when I first wake up, so that I have a complexion to rival that of Snow White. At any rate, here I am sitting in the computer lab wearing the same clothes I went to work in last night, with last night’s makeup smeared all over my face, and absolutely no natural pigmentation in my face, and I am wondering why the other people in here are not screaming at the horrid sight of me…I worry too much about what other people think of me. Two Hispanic individuals that I work with told me that I needed to be more natural, more tan like them. I told them that for me being tan would be unnatural and that being pasty pale is natural for me and that should I ever go outside and attempt to tan I would merely turn red and then lose a few precious layers of skin and then be pasty pale once more…I guess they got the hint…But they are not the only people who have commented on my apparent lividity. Last week, upon meeting me for the first time, the doctor proclaimed, “You are unusually pale!” My coworker, out of supposed concern for my well-being when I had first taken ill, made a similar statement. I have almost gotten rid of my upper respiratory infection, though, and my pallidness has been there long prior to this recent illness. In fact, a few months ago I had spent a few days at a friend’s house and she and her husband told me that I looked abnormally pale. I keep telling these people that I am always pale, and they keep telling me that I appear to be more so at that particular moment in time..Yeah..So..Whatever..Why does it matter anyway? It is likely that the lack of sufficient sunlight in my life do to the time frame and nature of my current position of employment has had an adverse affect on the pigmentation of my skin, but this does not bother me in the slightest, as I am otherwise in relatively good health, considering. I also know that I cannot easily tan, even should I use the tanning beds my apartment complex provides, so why should I not be happy with my lurid complexion? I mean, do these people know how many Renaissance women would have killed to find a way to look like me? I have large hips (child-bearing) and a large derriere and plenty of meat on my bones (indicative of a well-fed, therefore well-bred, individual) and a smaller waste and good sized bosoms (neither too small to produce milk, nor large enough to befit a doxy) and I have the lividness that they held in such high regard. The very description of Snow White was, “…Skin as white as snow, lips as rosy as blood, and hair as black as ebony…” All I would need to get would be rosy lipstick and some ebony dye and I would look the part for sure…But even if I did not try to, I do not understand why other’s cannot be happy with me the way I am, lurid skin and all. Perhaps YOU know? Snowpony–Snow White, your dress unstained, your hair all wet in the straight down rain, and when you smile like a mail-order-bride something flips and twists inside. I think of you, Snow White. I think of you. I think of you. I think of you in the dreamless night, Snow White, Snow White.
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