Link Larkin liked hairspray.
That was probably the understatement of the century, but it was true. He obsessed over the stuff. Link would spend every passing period in the bathroom, applying a new coat over his already perfect hair, when he should've been with me, his girlfriend.
I know that it's his job to look good: he's supposed to be that guy that all the girls want to date and all the guys want to be friends with. And a few of the guys probably want to date him, too, but I digress.
So it's his job to have flawless hair; I get it. I have to look perfect, too. Being Amber Von Tussle, I have to be beautiful, poised, and graceful. But I have to do it all in high heels. Do you hear me complaining?
No, you don't.
Do you hear me complaining when we're dancing together and he keeps staring at that ball of flab called Tracy Turnblad? No. Do you hear me complaining when Link and I are sprawled out on the couch, kissing until our lips are swollen, and he calls out Tracy's name?
No, you don't.
I just pretend it never happened. Because if we were to break up…that must never happen. Everything I've done would have been for nothing. I would be cast aside as 'Link Larkin's ex-girlfriend'. I wouldn't be a lead dancer anymore; I'd be forced to leap and twist in the back, behind Noreen and Doreen even. And worst of all, everyone would know that I had lost him to Tracy Turnblad, the uber-freak fatty on The Corny Collins Show. I suppose you could call what she does dancing, although personally I think she looks like she's just hobbling around on her swollen feet. What did Link even see in her? What does she have that I don't have? Whatever he finds captivating about her, I don't know, but I am not getting dumped for Tracy Turnflab.
That wasn't going to happen. I was just going to have to keep Link on a short leash, is all. Stardom is more important than carnal desires.
No matter how much Corny Collins makes me weak in the knees.
But do you hear me complaining? No, you don't.