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“Well, Stephanie, I suppose I’ll demonstrate on your daughter, then.”
Your mother says nothing (probably out of fear) as he swings the pendulum vigorously in front of you.
“Valerie, darling,” he says in a condescending voice. “You are very, very rich.”
“I’m very, ve-huh? I know I’m rich!” You say. Being a model isn’t a minimum wage job or anything! Your family is LOADED; between two supermodels, money has never been a problem. You live a lavish lifestyle with fancy clothes, a huge house, private, elite schooling, and many affluent friends.
“Just checking, my dear,” Kurt says. “You love being rich.”
“I l-love b-being rich,” you manage. It was true, obviously, but you weren’t blinded by your privilege. Your friends and family have always remarked how down-to-earth you’ve been since you were a kid. You loved the good life but it ruin your personality.
“Kurt...what are you doing?” Asks Stephanie, her temple beginning to hurt as she begins to quiver.
“Now Valerie,” says Kurt, ignoring your mom. “You’re a spoiled brat.”
“I’m...but I am not!” You shout. How dare he call you such a thing! He’s not even as rich as-what the hell? Why are you degrading him in your head? You never look at people as beneath you but...it felt natural for a second, like you’ve always done it.
“You’re a boujee bitch and love every bit of it,” says Kurt. “Hell, you’re rich, and that’s what determines your worth, after all.”
“Uh...uh...I...uh...” you stammer, your brain absolutely on fire. As your head feels like it’s melting, you clothes begin to change: immediately, your crimson dress turns bright, faded pink as it splits into a top and dangerously short skirt. Around your neck, your necklace morphs into a much larger (and more expensive) piece of jewelry. The heels on your feet grow another two inches, and a hot pink, furry, and short overcoat appears on top of your new revealing outfit. Beyond your clothes, your hair is now dyed even blonder and the makeup on your face gets even heavier, making you far more beautiful than before, if a little artificial. You almost can’t believe your new outrageous new outfit before the memories hijack your (now calm) head: this was YOU. You loved looking hotter and more boujee and richer than everyone else. You loved it when people called you a bitch, because they were just poor and jealous. They don’t have what really matters, after all: cash! You became a boujee bitch in that instant, but you didn’t know; you remember being this way forever, and God was it just incredible to have such a sweet life!
“Oh, I’m totally all that. You can’t even hope to convince me otherwise,” you say, the vanity and bitchiness in your voice incredibly apparent. Your mother gasps, but she is now struggling to remember you as a sweet, good-natured daughter. Kurt turns to her smiling.
“So you see, Stephanie. Look at your daughter now; something just isn’t quite right! That’s the magic I wield,” boasts Kurt.
“I...you made my daughter so...so shallow! So mean!” Says Stephanie, holding back tears.
“Hold your tears. Please.”
He turns back to you.
“And Valerie...you’re a ditz,” he adds, almost offhandedly.
“I’m...a ditz?” You ask him. Sure, you weren’t some genius, but you weren’t dumb. You really didn’t need to try too hard in school anyway for one thing, and for another you were so savvy, and you wanted to start your own fashion line one day; you had ambitions, and that’s pretty intelligent.
“Correct, my blonde beauty. You are a very ditzy young woman. You get by with your body and money, not your brains.”
“Of course...like...I get by with my body and money...” you say, your voice now an octave higher. You were certainly not too smart, but you didn’t care at all. You had other things in your corner, so nobody would dare mess with a bitch like you. And when it came to your future, you knew that you could just hire someone to do all the smarty-pants work for you and you’ll just put your name on the brand. You just hope you could marry some rich hunk (but you knew you had to someday)!
With that, Kurt stops swinging but keeps you in trance. He looks at your mother, bewildered and horrified at what she sees.
Your mother says nothing (probably out of fear) as he swings the pendulum vigorously in front of you.
“Valerie, darling,” he says in a condescending voice. “You are very, very rich.”
“I’m very, ve-huh? I know I’m rich!” You say. Being a model isn’t a minimum wage job or anything! Your family is LOADED; between two supermodels, money has never been a problem. You live a lavish lifestyle with fancy clothes, a huge house, private, elite schooling, and many affluent friends.
“Just checking, my dear,” Kurt says. “You love being rich.”
“I l-love b-being rich,” you manage. It was true, obviously, but you weren’t blinded by your privilege. Your friends and family have always remarked how down-to-earth you’ve been since you were a kid. You loved the good life but it ruin your personality.
“Kurt...what are you doing?” Asks Stephanie, her temple beginning to hurt as she begins to quiver.
“Now Valerie,” says Kurt, ignoring your mom. “You’re a spoiled brat.”
“I’m...but I am not!” You shout. How dare he call you such a thing! He’s not even as rich as-what the hell? Why are you degrading him in your head? You never look at people as beneath you but...it felt natural for a second, like you’ve always done it.
“You’re a boujee bitch and love every bit of it,” says Kurt. “Hell, you’re rich, and that’s what determines your worth, after all.”
“Uh...uh...I...uh...” you stammer, your brain absolutely on fire. As your head feels like it’s melting, you clothes begin to change: immediately, your crimson dress turns bright, faded pink as it splits into a top and dangerously short skirt. Around your neck, your necklace morphs into a much larger (and more expensive) piece of jewelry. The heels on your feet grow another two inches, and a hot pink, furry, and short overcoat appears on top of your new revealing outfit. Beyond your clothes, your hair is now dyed even blonder and the makeup on your face gets even heavier, making you far more beautiful than before, if a little artificial. You almost can’t believe your new outrageous new outfit before the memories hijack your (now calm) head: this was YOU. You loved looking hotter and more boujee and richer than everyone else. You loved it when people called you a bitch, because they were just poor and jealous. They don’t have what really matters, after all: cash! You became a boujee bitch in that instant, but you didn’t know; you remember being this way forever, and God was it just incredible to have such a sweet life!
“Oh, I’m totally all that. You can’t even hope to convince me otherwise,” you say, the vanity and bitchiness in your voice incredibly apparent. Your mother gasps, but she is now struggling to remember you as a sweet, good-natured daughter. Kurt turns to her smiling.
“So you see, Stephanie. Look at your daughter now; something just isn’t quite right! That’s the magic I wield,” boasts Kurt.
“I...you made my daughter so...so shallow! So mean!” Says Stephanie, holding back tears.
“Hold your tears. Please.”
He turns back to you.
“And Valerie...you’re a ditz,” he adds, almost offhandedly.
“I’m...a ditz?” You ask him. Sure, you weren’t some genius, but you weren’t dumb. You really didn’t need to try too hard in school anyway for one thing, and for another you were so savvy, and you wanted to start your own fashion line one day; you had ambitions, and that’s pretty intelligent.
“Correct, my blonde beauty. You are a very ditzy young woman. You get by with your body and money, not your brains.”
“Of course...like...I get by with my body and money...” you say, your voice now an octave higher. You were certainly not too smart, but you didn’t care at all. You had other things in your corner, so nobody would dare mess with a bitch like you. And when it came to your future, you knew that you could just hire someone to do all the smarty-pants work for you and you’ll just put your name on the brand. You just hope you could marry some rich hunk (but you knew you had to someday)!
With that, Kurt stops swinging but keeps you in trance. He looks at your mother, bewildered and horrified at what she sees.
What next?