1 - Dear Diary

It all started with a little magical book entitled 'Twilight'. After reading the Twilight saga so many times I can practically recite it in my sleep, I've finally decided to play with the author's characters myself. I must stress that I am merely playing with them. I promise to give them back when I'm done. No infringement is intended.

August 30, 2013

Dear Diary,

Oh my goodness, my life is so boring. My parents, wow, they are like so old fashioned. Have you ever seen that old movie 'The Stepford Wives'? My mother is just like those women. She's the perfect housewife. She makes Martha Stewart look like a slob. Needless to say I'm expected to tow the line.

It's so unfair. Just because my father's a preacher, I'm expected to be little miss Mary Jane sunshine, all prim and proper. I'm not allowed to attend public school. Oh no, those children are all a bunch of heathens who's parents are all alcoholics and pot heads. The girls are put on the pill when they're twelve and the boys are allowed to have long hair, get their ears pierced and wear black nail polish. Oh, it's so absurd, but that's my parents for you.

(Sigh)

My parents make me go to a local Christian school. According to my parents those children are suppose to be a better influence. Ha! That's rich. If they could only see Mike Newton, how he uses a mirror to look up all the girls skirts. I mean, who does that? That's like something a dirty old man would do because he's too old and ugly to get any. Then there's Tanya Denali, what that girl does in the janitors closet with Garret Bentley is anybodies guess, but let me tell you she makes noises like a cat in heat (rolls eyes).

Speaking of slutty girls, I'm sick to death of having to wear this stupid uniform. You'd think I was starring in a movie attending a Catholic school in some pedophiles porn collection for crying out loud, with this horrid little plaid skirt and little white blouse that leaves nothing to the imagination. I mean, you can see my bra! That is so tacky. And the boys can't keep their hands to themselves.

The principal, of our school, Mr. Davis, had the last say on the school uniform. What a perv. He had to sub for our Biology teacher, Mr. Banner, and he practically fell over looking down Jessica Stanley's blouse when she had to bend over to pick up a pencil she'd dropped.

I feel like a piece of meat going to this school.

At least in public school I'd be allowed to wear jeans. If some boy got fresh with me then at least I could kick him in the nads without showing off my panties.

Oh and forget about dating. Not that there's anyone in this school I'd ever go out with. I'm not allowed to even consider dating until I'm through with college. Even then, my parents are under the delusion that they are going to somehow help me find the perfect husband (no way in H. E. double hockey sticks).

I'm dreaming of a beautiful well toned man with extensive tattoos and a few facial piercings. That would put my mothers panties in a twist. My father will disown me (he, he).

This is only the first week of school. Just one more year. You can do it, Bella.

"Isabella."

"Yes, mummy."

"Have you finished your homework?"

"Yes, mummy."

"Well, get ready for bed, dear. We have that bake sale at the church tomorrow morning."

"Goody," I faked joy. Jeez it's Saturday. Can't I have at least one day to sleep in?

I went through the motions, of course. There was no fighting with my parents. My father had me under his giant thumb and my mother would whine until she got her way. They would ground me for the rest of the school year if I dared step out of line, no leaving the house, no friends over, and no computer (except for school work). So here I was, obeying my parents "so that I could live long on the earth" (more like so I could sneak out when they weren't looking). After all, I'm their perfect little princess. I never talk back; I always do what's asked of me; I have stellar grades. Their family is perfect and they are the perfect parents. Puke.

This story came out of no where and I just had to share it with you. I would really appreciate your thoughts on this one.

Thank you.