I try my best to hold back the tears that are about to spill out of my eyes. Really, I cannot endure this. Who wants three blobs of bright colors ribbing bandages off you like a new delivery product?
My skin is red and raw, although it did look healthier than before. I might've put on a few pounds since entering the Capitol, which is very good for me. Although my prep team admires my skinniness, they say my face is incredibly sallow and easiest the most hideous they've ever worked with, my eyes are dull of any life, my freckles make me look like I have a rash, and with that vivid red hair I will be an easy target for the Careers. The one with purple ears even says she'll be weeping when I die because then all her work would've been nothing. I want to strangle them.
It gets even worse. My stylist, some forty year old trying to look seventeen, says she's got my cow costume all prepared up. I don't think udders are worshiped as fashion in the Capitol.
My team is arguing over what to do with my shaggy mane when a scream is heard from the other room. They dropped my braids and scampered over, me being completely forgotten.
I later learn after the Tribute Parade that Remo had bitten one member of his prep team when they were trying to fit his belly into his cow costume. So it was because of the fat kid that we had to wear roast pig costumes complete with apples stuffed into our mouths and a herb hat clinging to our head. The crowds were completely silent upon our arrival. Yeah, thanks a lot, Fatso.
I am not looking forward to training and meeting the other tributes. 2 and 1 were pointing and laughing at us.
