Give me a nine to five and I’ll thrive to be the prettiest, baddest bitch you’ve ever seen. Because my numbers will pale in comparison to the potential worth of my bust as you thrust me forward to smile that keen smile at another stranger. Pimp me out to do your bidding so your fancy car and fancy lifestyle continue to function…all the while, I’m applying makeup with lights out and no heat. I’m shaving by candlelight trying not to nick the skin from the shivers so my calves look promising and show you the potential I have. The promise that seems to elude you when I’m not so foxy foxy.
But I’m not good at this game, sir. I’m not the type of girl who spends her time plucking and tucking and shoving thighs into the ever so tight and the ever so revealing. I’m wearing black because I’m concealing all the shit I wish wasn’t real about me. But these things don’t matter to you; couldn’t to someone of your magnitude.
You’re not the first titan I’ve come across. Let’s be honest. I’m the queen of faking it but so long as the money is rolling in and the stats looks promising, my lack of satisfaction is not something you’ll ever notice. Or address even if you did.
I’m not your prime cut which means I’m not your prime candidate and so I continue to be the mule…the minion…the tool that will traffic your goods to plump pockets of pious pirates…drooling over booty they want to attain in secret but hold back in public because certain treasures are meant to be spent…never invested.
Oh, Mr. Bigwig, don’t you worry because I’ll show up tomorrow and do your bidding and bring you success so a legacy is left behind far beyond my timeline.
I’m withering, sir, crumbling under the pressure. I’m trying to reach the goal but I’m sure the hurdles will be placed at dusk before I awaken…making the promises farther off until I fall short. And then you will bask in my failure because you’ve gotten the best of me. And another will come along, another who is smarter, prettier, younger, just a touch more clever and a little more submissive and way less opinionated.
But for tonight, I’ll put my hair in a trendy setting, I’ll paint my face so I’m almost unrecognizable and my tear stained cheeks become unnoticeable. I’ll slink into something appealing; maybe a dress and heels so you feel like I take it all just a tad more seriously. One more day to fake it in the game. I’ll start tonight as the sun is gone and practice my smile in a handheld mirror so I get the pleasure of making you money just right.