According to Madame E'tat, my long-standing Governess, there are three important things that make a girl into a woman, and a woman into a lady.
One; she must posses poise, elegance, dignity, and liquid perfection when she walks.
Two; in the company of men, she must hold her tongue and nod affectionately, occasionally batting her eyelashes for added effect.
Three; no matter what, under any circumstance necessary, she must yield to her parents', and soon her husband's desire. She will come after everyone else, and self-importance should be distant to her vocabulary.
Needless to say, I've already failed on three accounts in my how-to-be-a-lady training. Instead of adopting Madame E'tat's degrading rules, I have developed my own; hers simply pale in comparison.
One; anything involving graceful demeanor shall be evicted permanently from my life. I am denouncing it with a steady proclamation that to turn one such as myself into "refined" would be a threat to humanity. God knows the amount of people I would massacre with all those different fancy knives and forks.
Two; in the company of men, I become a man. Not literally, of course, but I've more or less adapted the typical conversational skills of a teenage boy. Grunting when displeased and scratching myself at leisure is more appealing then daintily folding napkins and pursing my lips. To hell with men and their ideals, I've got my own to exercise. I'd quicker run through the streets of Kentworthy naked than hold my tongue or nod affectionately at anyone. Not even my beloved teddy bear, Soren.
Three; the day that I yield to even the smallest little twig in my path shall be the day forever remembered as Doomsday. In other words, the end of the world would come quicker. Self-importance is my vocabulary, and I exercise it quite amusingly. There is nothing more satisfying than the look of abhorrence on the face of one's suitor when that is made evident. Especially if one is at the ripe age of 14, and the suitor has far passed his expiration date.
Here I finish the first entrance of my journal with a general synopsis of what my life is like. Perhaps you will be able to derive other truths within the text, but be careful. They say the devil reads between the lines for a reason.