This Page

has been moved to new address

Shattered Mirror

Sorry for inconvenience...

Redirection provided by Blogger to WordPress Migration Service
/* global ----------------------------------------------- */ body { margin: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center; min-width: 760px; background: #ce436e url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_body.gif) repeat-x left top; font-family: helvetica, arial, verdana, "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; color: #632035; } blockquote { margin: 0; padding: 0 10px 0 10px; border-left: 6px solid #f7d8e2; border-right: 6px solid #f7d8e2; color: #ba476b; } code { color: #ba8094; } hr { display: none; } /* layout ----------------------------------------------- */ @media all { #wrapper { margin: 0 auto; width: 760px; text-align: left; } #blog-header { padding-bottom: 15px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_header_bottom.gif) no-repeat left bottom; } #blog-header div { background: #632035 url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_header.gif) repeat-x left bottom; } #main-wrapper { position: relative; width: 760px; background: #f7f0e9 url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_main_wrapper.gif) repeat-y left top; } #main-content { display: inline; /* fixes a strange ie margin bug */ float: left; margin: 0 0 0 3px; padding: 0; width: 483px; } #content-wrapper { padding: 22px 0 0 0; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_content.gif) repeat-x left top; } } @media handheld { #wrapper { width: 90%; } #blog-header { background:none; } #blog-header div { background: #632035; } #main-wrapper { width: 100%; background: #f7f0e9; } #main-content { float: none; width: 100%; } #content-wrapper { background: none; } } .post { margin: 0 16px 14px 29px; padding: 0; border-bottom: 3px solid #f7d8e2; } #comments { margin: 0 16px 14px 29px; padding: 10px; border: 1px solid #f0ced8; background-color: #f5e4e9; } @media all { #sidebar-wrapper { display: inline; /* fixes a strange ie margin bug */ float: right; margin: 0 3px 0 0; width: 269px; color: #761c37; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_sidebar.gif) repeat-x left top; } #sidebar { padding: 7px 11px 0 14px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_sidebar_arrow.gif) repeat-y 179px 0; } #blog-footer { padding-top: 15px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_footer_top.gif) no-repeat left top; } #blog-footer div { background: #491525 url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_footer.gif) repeat-x left top; } } @media handheld { #sidebar-wrapper { float: none; width: 100%; background:none; } #sidebar { background:none; } #blog-footer { background:none; } #blog-footer div { background: #491525; } } #profile-container { margin-bottom: 20px; } #blog-footer { padding-top: 15px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_footer_top.gif) no-repeat left top; } #blog-footer div { background: #491525 url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_footer.gif) repeat-x left top; } /* headings ----------------------------------------------- */ #blog-header h1 { margin: 0; padding: 26px 0 0 84px; color: #feeef3; font-size: 30px; line-height: 25px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_header.gif) no-repeat 16px 26px; } h2.date-header { margin: 0; padding: 0 0 0 29px; font-size: 10px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #c88fa2; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_date.gif) no-repeat 13px 0; } .date-header span { margin: 0 0 0 5px; padding: 0 25px 0 25px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/bg_date.gif) no-repeat 0 0; } h2.sidebar-title { padding: 1px 0 0 36px; font-size: 14px; color: #bd8095; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_sidebar_heading.gif) no-repeat 0 45%; } #profile-container h2.sidebar-title { color: #95526a; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_sidebar_profileheading.gif) no-repeat 0 45%; } .post h3.post-title { margin: 13px 0 0 0; padding: 0; font-size: 18px; color: #ba476b; } #comments h4 { margin-top: 0; font-size: 16px; } /* text ----------------------------------------------- */ #blog-header p { margin: 0; padding: 7px 16px 0 84px; color: #feeef3; font-size: 10px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 14px; } .post-body div { font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0; height:1%; overflow:visible; } .post-body blockquote { margin: 10px 0px; } p.post-footer { font-size: 11px; color: #bd8095; text-align: right; } p.post-footer em { display: block; float: left; text-align: left; font-style: normal; } p.comment-data { font-size: 12px; } .comment-body p { font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px; } .deleted-comment { font-style:italic; color:gray; } .paging-control-container { float: right; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; font-size: 80%; } .unneeded-paging-control { visibility: hidden; } #sidebar p { font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 20px; } #sidebar p.profile-textblock { clear: both; margin-bottom: 10px; } .profile-link { padding: 0 0 0 17px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_profile.gif) no-repeat 0 0; } p#powered-by { margin: 0; padding: 0; } #blog-footer p { margin: 0; padding: 0 0 15px 55px; color: #feeef3; font-size: 10px; line-height: 14px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_footer.gif) no-repeat 16px 0; } /* lists ----------------------------------------------- */ .profile-data { font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; } .post ul { padding-left: 32px; list-style-type: none; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; } .post li { padding: 0 0 4px 17px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_list_item.gif) no-repeat 0 3px; } #comments ul { margin: 0; padding: 0; list-style-type: none; } #comments li { padding: 0 0 1px 17px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_comment.gif) no-repeat 0 3px; } #sidebar ul { margin: 0 0 20px 0; padding: 0; list-style-type: none; font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px; } #sidebar li { padding: 0 0 4px 17px; background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_list_item.gif) no-repeat 0 3px; } /* links ----------------------------------------------- */ a { color: #bf277e; font-weight: bold; } a:hover { color: #96095a; } a.comment-link { /* ie5.0/win doesn't apply padding to inline elements, so we hide these two declarations from it */ background/* */:/**/url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_comment.gif) no-repeat 0 45%; padding-left: 14px; } html>body a.comment-link { /* respecified, for ie5/mac's benefit */ background: url(http://www.blogblog.com/thisaway_rose/icon_comment.gif) no-repeat 0 45%; padding-left: 14px; } #sidebar ul a { color: #e25984; } #sidebar ul a:hover { color: #b02c56; } #powered-by a img { border: none; } #blog-header h1 a { color: #feeef3; text-decoration: none; } #blog-header h1 a:hover { color: #d9b4c1; } h3.post-title a { color: #ba476b; text-decoration: none; } h3.post-title a:hover { color: #902245; } /* miscellaneous ----------------------------------------------- */ .post-photo { padding: 3px; border: 1px solid #ebbdcc; } .profile-img { display: inline; } .profile-img img { float: left; margin: 0 10px 5px 0; padding: 3px; border: 1px solid #ebbdcc; } .profile-data strong { display: block; } .clear { clear: both; line-height: 0; height: 0; } /* Feeds ----------------------------------------------- */ #blogfeeds { font-size: 14px; } #postfeeds { font-size: 12px; }

Tiaras and Trucks

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Shattered Mirror

This week's Red Writing Hood prompt was to write a first-person piece from the point of view of someone that drives us crazy, really gets under our skin.  Thanks to Abbey, I've got Disney princesses on the brain, so I stretched the idea of the prompt and updated a bit of Snow White as the Evil Queen.  I guess I should note that all references to Vogue are completely fictional, which is probably obvious, but I thought I'd mention it anyway!

My phone buzzes again and again as I sit in the reclined chair, tiny needles injecting toxins into the almost imperceptible wrinkles only my dermatologist and I will ever see.

In the cab, I quickly scan through the text messages, my face either painfully or pleasantly numb; I can’t tell the difference anymore. I don’t even listen to the voice mails, knowing they’re all variations of the same message: Congratulations on the latest Vogue cover.

The magazine hasn’t even gone to print, but word travels fast in a world where what is current changes by the minute.

Bile creeps into my throat.

Delete all.

I haven’t gotten this amount of congratulatory calls in a long time, possibly since my first cover too many years ago. September Vogue might be considered a coup, but I’ve been there before.

Anger pushes the bile back into my stomach, shifting into a cold fist of panic and anxiety.

My hands are shaking as I pull my compact out of the ridiculously expensive satchel on the seat beside me. Helplessly I hold the compact close to my oft-photographed face, turning to let the bright sunlight stream through the dirty filter of the cab’s window.

Thirty, forty, fifty phone calls congratulating me on something that has been my job, my life, for as long as I can remember, something that wouldn’t have been a surprise even two years ago, means only one thing.

Old.

I am getting old.

Staring into the mirror, I can’t see any of the panic that fills my insides, a welcome change from the hollow emptiness that comes from years of coffee breakfasts and diet soda lunches. My doctor is unparalleled, perfectly perched on the Botox scale that so easily tips from unlined to unmoving, toeing the collagen line that divides the lush from the comical. When I shot my first cover, I had never considered letting a needle near the face they were paying me to photograph.

I search the face in the mirror for signs of aging, tiredness, gravity. My face, my livelihood, can’t calm my anxiety. Only thoughts of the Vogue cover, the photo vivid and exquisite in my memory, slow my racing heart.

My phone rings, then stops. Rings again. My agent’s ring tone.

There’s a problem with the cover. It’s not going to run. They’re swapping it for a photo from a small shoot they did yesterday morning, with a young model so fresh her head shot’s not even on her agency’s website. They say her name is Eirwen*; she doesn’t use a last name.

The voice on the phone is reassuring me, but I don’t hear it. Bile rises again, anxiety flamed into anger once again. I hurl the compact against the window, shattering the mirror. Blood pounds in my ears, mocking me: old, tired, hag, finished.

I am twenty-four years old.

*Eirwen is Welsh for "white as snow", at least according to my Google search research


Labels: ,

22 Comments:

  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:02 AM , Anonymous Amy said...

    Wow! I love your take on the prompt and making this a very modern Snow White and Evil Queen tale. To have her be 24 years old too, adds some shock at the end.

    Great!

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:05 AM , Anonymous Kir said...

    OOOH you did again, this is fantastic and sad and humbling.
    GREAT JOB!!!!!!!

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:43 AM , Anonymous Kim said...

    I like your take on the prompt - very literal. You've used imagery really well. It's such a sad but true state of affairs in celebrity culture these days.

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 10:45 AM , Anonymous Kristy said...

    Ugh! Through the whole thing, she was making me anxious, then I got to the last line and was just disgusted with her. Which means you did a great job!

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 12:04 PM , Anonymous Nichole said...

    You never cease to amaze me.
    You completely pulled me in with this piece.
    I love the way you incorporated the name of the young model.
    And you made me giggle with your "research" note. ;)

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 12:58 PM , Anonymous Sara said...

    This is really good. What a clever twist to a familiar tale:~) I liked it from beginning to end. I would change anything:~)

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 1:28 PM , Anonymous JennaFarelyn said...

    so well done, and unique to the prompt too. Heartbreaking.

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 2:08 PM , Anonymous Liz said...

    i could never imagine a life and career that's competitive like this! oh the pressure to be young!

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 4:06 PM , Anonymous GalitBreen said...

    Oh, poor sad girl! I hung onto every word here; you really drew me in!

    I loved this line: "Anger pushes the bile back into my stomach, shifting into a cold fist of panic and anxiety." Such genius wording!

    I had to look close to read about your research. Does that mean that *I'm* -ahem- getting old?! :)

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 5:19 PM , Anonymous Jennifer said...

    I really loved how she viewed the 'congratulations' almost as stabs at her and I love how you explained it with this line, "Thirty, forty, fifty phone calls congratulating me on something that has been my job, my life, for as long as I can remember, something that wouldn’t have been a surprise even two years ago, means only one thing.

    Old.

    I am getting old."

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:04 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    I should have used a larger font, sorry!

    I'm glad you felt sad for her and not just annoyed :) And thank you for the compliment; the imagery in your own writing is always so vivid!

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:05 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    You know things are going downhill for you when you get upset at congratulatory phone calls, right?

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:06 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    I am glad I am just imagining it; I wouldn't last two days in that world. You could pack for a two week vacation with the bags under my eyes :)

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:07 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thank you! I've got princesses on the brain thanks to my daughter :)

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:08 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thank you! Can you imagine if the Evil Queen had access to the internet? Her magic mirror had nothing on Perez Hilton.

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:11 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thank you my friend! I wanted a disclaimer, since Google and yahoo answers aren't technically iron-clad sources. As I did it, I cringed, remembering all the times I told my students not to believe everything that Google popped up :)

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:12 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thank you! I am annoyed with her but also sad that she feels so done with life at such a young age.

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:29 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Our society is in love with youth, isn't it? Some days I wish I could keep my kids, especially my daughter, in a little bubble.

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:30 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thank you! Seeing your smiling face (and your kind words) always makes me happy :)

     
  • At April 1, 2011 at 9:30 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    If 24 is over the hill I might as well start looking into retirement homes...

     
  • At April 2, 2011 at 10:22 PM , Anonymous Karen @ Time Crafted said...

    Ack! Twenty-four and old. Can you imagine (well, obviously you did!) a self identifying career that is over with at such a young age (for a large percentage of the people working in it)?! I felt her panick rising in my chest, so you excellently conveyed her emotion. :>

     
  • At April 3, 2011 at 8:28 PM , Anonymous Angela said...

    I am glad I only imagined it! It makes me sad :(

     

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home