Most people wish that I was a little less, well, like me. I mean, let's be real and face it shall we? I'm gorgeous. I'm just plain fucking gorgeous. There is nothing about me that isn't to like. My eyes, my lips, my skintone, my toned figure. I'm a vision of perfection. And I know that people hate me for it, I can tell that people hate me for it. How can they not? I was a supermodel. I graced magazine commercials, I was cover girl for more than a dozen fashion publications - sometimes competing publications within the same month. Heads turn when I walk into a room, and puddles of drool form on the ground, as well as puddles of some less savory substances. But what can I do about that? I'm perfection personified, lust given free, uninhibited human form. I know that they all hate me for it. Susan, Lynette, Bree, and especially Edie. They won't say anything because they love me, but there are those nights when we all go out, when the waiter pays me that extra little speck of attention...you can tell that they try not to seeth with anger out of love for me...but it can't be helped. I am who I am...even if people wish I wasn't.
Muse: Gabrielle Solis
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Words: 215
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gabrielle_solis's journal
distressed
pleased