There were some rich and gorgeous girls I knew about back in high school. Most of them wore the designed outfits, designed shoes and every time they walked into the classroom everyone’s attention would be hard to divert by anything else.
They dated the super hot, cool guys and went to school in those fancy cars. They were some millionaires in the place where I lived, but poor less privileged people could also be seen there among which my family was a perfect example. You could become one of them by being invited to their party, but they just did not send the invitation to anyone.
I worked very hard both in and outside school. I wanted to earn some extra money to buy a pair of Ugg boots, I did not felt right to ask for money from my parents, so I got a part time job as a waitress. I never told anyone this except my best friend, for I was afraid others would laugh at me and gave me the look of which plant you were from.
I was told to impress them you had to be either academic outstanding or dressed to kill. I knew if I could put on a piece of jewel with famous brand, they would at least start noticing me, right after these thoughts flashed over my mind I got stuck, what was I doing? What was I thinking?
I was becoming the kind of people I used to hate. They decorated themselves like princesses, thinking they were different from all the other girls outside. They deemed they were superior to others because the labels on their outfit were doing all the talk and what left for them to do were just posing. They talked about nothing but the latest vogue, regarding it as the last step of human civilization. I was not blaming them, but the thought of want to become one of them was just too much to handle. I knew lots of girls would kill to be invited to their splendid party in which you could use the champagne to wash your teeth and stuff yourself with these chocolates coming all the way from Sweden, but what suited me was the best, if you could wear a pair of comfortable Ugg boots without costing you a leg or a arm, why would you want to punish yourself by the fabulous but killer like high heels just to appear nice and stunning?
When they passed me by, I no longer felt inferior by comparison, I was satisfied with everything I had and that was what really mattered.
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