Disclaimer: I do not own anything that pertains to WWE. All trademarks are licensed by their respective businesses and in no way was there any intent to claim them.
AN: This one actually spawned from thoughts and conversations with DarkGirlX. We were talking about certain wrestlers, divas and other aspects of wrestling for a while before this even attacked me. I thought about writing it down and this is what I got out of it. A short, somewhat angsty, one shot.
Do note that it is just a one shot. If you can't find it in you to either read between the lines and see the story behind this or run with the idea of its end possibly being something more, then I'm sorry. You are not getting a sequel, prequel or anything that would extend this story.
In no way am I trying to offend anyone with the choice of character or the thoughts that I'm having the character take on. To be honest, the character having those thoughts is exactly the point of the story. This is my first WWE fic that does not concern Jeff Hardy. The first one as well that actually concerns a diva.
I hope you like it.
Another day, another match, another loss – that's what I've been limited to doing. It doesn't seem to matter how much work I put in. It doesn't seem to matter how much improvement is evident in my skills. It doesn't seem to matter that out of everyone with the same label as me, I'm the only one that is truly taking this seriously. All I am relegated to is being the jobber to a girl that despises me for who I was and what I represent.
I admit, what I have done in the past isn't the most respectable of things to do. But what choice did I have? It was the same little girl in a big city story. I came for fame and fortune only to get the down and dirty side of it. Am I ashamed? On some days I am. Not because I regret doing it, but because I know that deep in my heart, I shouldn't have settled for it. I don't regret doing it because that is what kept me alive. It was what launched me to where I am right now. It gave me my notoriety.
But despite it all, I keep wishing I could change things around. That notoriety that I was grateful for because I am where I am is getting harder to shake off. It was all that mattered, nothing else.
I work my ass off everyday. I didn't act like a diva bitch and whined about being in a gritty gym that doesn't even have air conditioning. I didn't cry over every little bruise and bump. I took every little critique, took it to heart and changed what needed changing. But does it all matter? No.
Because in the eyes of everyone that sees me out there, I will never be one to take seriously. I was the actress. I was the model. I was the diva reject. I was the web girl. I was the centerfold. But I will never be the respected wrestler.
Never mind the fact that Marty Lunde, the legendary Arn Anderson, actually complimented my ring ability over the short span of time that I started training seriously. To every person sitting in those seats, glued to the TV and even most, if not all, of my co-workers, I'm just a girl with gyrating hips and a silly hand wave.
I used to be Candice Michelle - small town girl with big dreams. Now I am and forever will be Candice Michelle – the Go Daddy girl. I will never be Candice Michelle – the famous women's wrestler. And no one is to blame but me.