Dreama’s Diary–July 9
I combed my blonde hair, carefully checking the mirror at all angles. It seemed lustrous and in place, so never you mind that it is Clairol. Then I powered my skin. No, I wasn’t the fairest of them all. The mirror said that my nose was slightly pug, my nostrils too big. My eyes were piercing and demanding; my lips full. I’m told I’m pretty. Huh! I tend to doubt that, but wouldn’t it be nice?
Henry calls me vain. I don’t think so. Well, maybe a little. I may spend time in front of the mirror. It just means I have brows to pluck, eyes to line and lips to color. I check the mirror one more time. It is only me.
I can offer a firm body, gleaming with health and an adoring heart. Could we be Guinevere and Sir Lancelot wrapped tightly in a secret embrace? You must let me know, Stefan. Your cool demeanor enrages me. I want to crash against you like an iceberg and slowly melt with you under the forbidden sun.