4 February 2013
Imperfections of Being Perfect
I’m trapped in a world of fame. Not much of my life goes unrecognized by the public eye. The bright cameras, the constant paparazzi, and the false accusations have taken over my life. I’m not quite sure what these “normal” people want to be famous for. They admire me. They want to be just like me. The numerous amounts of fan mail I receive darken my spirits. How could you look up to someone like me? Why would you trade your freedom to live the life I live? I am a slave to the industry. It all started when I was seventeen. I was just like the typical teen. I had dreams just like everyone else, but instead of hopes of being a doctor or lawyer I dreamt of being a top model. I was obsessed with the show; never missed an episode to be exact. Tyra Banks was my idol and I wanted to be just like her. I mentioned it to Harriet one day and she replied with the norm. “It’s nice that you have dreams, sweetie”. That’s what she always told me. I lived with Harriet and Joe who became my parents when I was about seven years old. They adopted me. I didn’t know much about my life before they came along. I knew my mom’s name was Angela. She gave me up when I was three because she could not care for me anymore. I didn’t know much about my dad but I always had a feeling he was Mr. Harry, a white man, who owned a foreign car lot in the city. He always made sure to give me something for my birthday. Harriet says he is just a friendly man but I think different. I knew I was bi-racial because it’s not often that you see a green-eyed, brown girl with sandy curly hair who is fully African American. “The means of knowing was withheld from me”, quite like that of the historical Frederick Douglass who never knew his father (17). Harriet and Joe lived luxurious lives. Harriet owned her own retail shops located in many areas around the world and Joe was a lawyer for celebrities. They lived in an enormous house...
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