“See, I knew I could do it!” Ann cuddled beside Gene as he regained sanity. Yes, she certainly was the overachieving type, her parents had instilled that in her. Failure was not an option.
One month later, Ann was alone in her apartment in Brooklyn. The days seemed very long and tiresome without Gene, and the separation was harder than she had fathomed. She had developed an affinity towards marijuana in the past few months and she stuffed a few prickly leaves into a small blue bowl. Inhaling the smoke made her feel dreadful at first, she believed the smoke would kill her insides, but once that feeling past, she would slump down, eyes glazing over and feel positively delightful.
Rihanna was playing loudly, to get her pumped up. She was going out tonight and had managed to snag a Peach Tea Snapple to help keep her awake.
Ann applied her makeup diligently, enjoying her high and taking occasional gulps of Snapple. She wanted to look pretty tonight. Well, at least, as pretty as she could look. Despite her every wish to be beautiful, a desire that often consumed her whole being, Ann knew she was not. She often relied on her quick wit and bizarre conversational humor to attract the attention of men. That was how she had attracted Gene and her previous boyfriends. Gene would insist Ann was beautiful, and while she appreciated his relentless efforts to convince her otherwise, Ann knew she was simply an awkward girl.
Makeup would help at least. Doing her hair nicely would help too. And if she wore something revealing, that would help a lot. For all Ann’s physical faults, she was at least thin and for some reason, men seemed to like thin women.