Alex- Mistress of the Universe

A/N: Hello once again! Sorry if I get all the TV programme times mixed up. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Eames

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Alex POV

Why was it that whenever I got a day off there was only crap on TV? I couldn't go outside because it was pouring and all my friends were at work. Bobby had gone to see his mum and I didn't want to disturb him. Oh the joys of daytime television. Bold and the Beautiful, Days of our lives and Passions. Where was Jerry Springer when you needed him? Maybe I should have just ignored the rain and gone to the library. But I didn't. It looked too cold. The computer looked inviting though.

I connected up and sat there for 5 minutes deciding what to do. Finally I decided to check my email. There was nothing in my inbox so I went back to the homepage.

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4 ½ hours later

I never knew that Beethoven was deaf. How fascinating. After many hours looking at the computer screen, it was back to TV. Nothing was really on at 7:30.Friends, Scrubs, documentary on snakes or Miss Universe Competition. Ohhh no. I didn't feel like watching comedy shows, so Miss universe had to do. I was so glad I was going back to work the next day. I settled down with my bowl of hot chips and watched the parade of skinny, tall girls. They all looked the same - dark hair and eyes. I only saw a few blondes in there. After the parade they chose the best 15 out of 72. What was the point of the other 57 going?

First up was the costume competition. Most of the costumes were sparkly and bright. I wondered how long it would take to make one costume with all the sequins and feathers. Then came the evening gowns. Most of them had splits up the front. Miss Venezuela wore a classic red strapless. Very flattering. My thoughts wondered to the long blue spaghetti-strap dress I had hanging in my wardrobe. The last time I wore it was at my cousin's wedding 5 years ago. I wondered if I could still get into it.

Next was the swimsuit competition. They all had red sparkly bikinis with red veil things. I laughed when one of them nearly fell over. It was good to see they weren't so perfect. They all were so skinny their hipbones were clearly visible. I looked down at my grey tracksuit and half eaten bowl of chips with about 77 calories. As every woman does, I felt a bit guilty about eating all that junk food. Then I realised.I am fit and I am healthy. I'm a cop, I have to be. I got up off the couch and looked at myself in the mirror. I turned to the side, back and concluded I had a good figure. I wasn't too skinny but I wasn't too chubby. Just right. I could have been a model. I had the body and the posture. I could just imagine me up there being crowned Miss Universe - crown on my head and sceptre in hand, looking at all my minions. 'Hail to me- Alex! Mistress of the Universe!' I sat back down on the couch and watched the women strutting their stuff down the runway. I saw why today's teenage girls were corrupted with ideas that being thin was the perfect body image. As a teen I was never bothered with my body image, but I knew girls who were. They all suffered from eating disorders and looking back I was glad I wasn't that shallow.

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By the end of the competition it was 9:30pm. There was a modelling special on - and to be honest, I wasn't surprised. I watched all the women being judged to see who would get a place at a top-modelling agency in California. They all practised walking in high heels and keeping their posture correct. I couldn't understand how they did it - walking with their heads up so straight. Then my head slowly turned towards the bookshelf. I got up and chose a book. One that wasn't too heavy. I placed it on my head and walked. It fell of, so I started again. For about 10 minuted I did this, then I suddenly realised what I was doing. I laughed at myself as I put the book back. Well I was practising good posture. I wondered how many women did that when they were little.

I didn't want to watch TV, but I didn't want to go to bed. So I decided to take a long, hot bubble bath. I listened to some music and relaxed. That, by far, had to be the best thing I did all day. An hour later I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in my towel. I put on my favourite flannelette pyjamas and sat in front of my mirror. I tied my hair back and started my night beauty routine. I didn't use all the expensive stuff, just the good cheap moisturisers from the chemist. I smiled at my skin. I was content with how I looked and I felt great.

I settled into bed with one of my girlie magazines. I read everything from tips on eyeliner to the latest in fashion. I wondered why guys weren't as obsessed with their body image. Take Bobby, for instance. He didn't have the perfect build, but didn't care. His hair had a few grey bits, but he didn't care. His face had the unshaven look, and he still didn't care. It wasn't like he didn't care about anything at all. His clothes were always neat and he always smelt of aftershave (even though he hadn't had a shave for days). His ties were always carefully chosen to match his shirt and when he wasn't wearing a suit, his outfit was always clean and practical. He could have been a model, but I couldn't think of his brain being used for anything except fighting crime. Finally I drifted off to sleep.

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Pt. 2 coming soon!