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In an attempt to make myself feel better, I sometimes daydream that my parents are living the life in Hollywood, or maybe Paris. I like to think they’re setting up some fabulous home, just waiting until everything is ready before sending for me and Mickey to join them in a life of luxury. Sure, it’s unrealistic and most likely nothing more than a fairy tale, but I’ve found myself fantasizing about it more than usual lately.
Because I could use an escape, even if for a short time. I need a break from the stress of my life as it is. There’s always so much going on that I can barely think straight. Nana wants me to begin applying for college, but how can I even consider adding to her financial burden?
It’s not possible because I want to lighten her load, not add more to it. So I’ll let her think I’m enrolling in school whereas really, I’m pounding the pavement looking for ways to make money.
“Wow, there’s really nothing, hmm?” I sigh with defeat, clicking the blue arrow to head to the next page of job listings after another page of worthless opportunities I don’t qualify for.
As I glance down at the computer screen, an ad pops up, startling me so much that I gasp as I read the vague description:
Girls wanted as companions.
What? Where did that come from? I haven’t seen any other ads like this. Something about it is dark, and I don’t mean the black backdrop, giving way to the bright, royal blue lettering that seems to jump out from the computer screen.
Because I may be young and naïve, but I know what this means. It has to be some type of escort position, or something similarly shady. I once overheard a girl in class talking about going on dates with guys for a couple hundred dollars a pop, lowering her voice to add that the guys were usually hot. But I don’t care about what the guys look like, what I care about is the money. A few hundred would be a lifesaver for me, an absolute boon.
Maybe I could do this? It can’t be that bad right? Because being a companion isn’t the same as a lover, I reason. The posting could be more about hanging out and chatting, and that’s something I can handle. Sex, on the other hand, isn’t my strong point. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, let alone a kiss. The idea of a man touching me scares me, but at the same time, my thighs squeeze together as I think of a strong hand caressing my secret spots. Plus, recently I’ve been feeling more and more needy. Christina, my best friend, says it’s a part of becoming a woman. That every girl begins to wonder what a man feels like – she was surprised it even took this long for me to mention it. Christina’s been with a guy before. In fact, she and Tyler have been dating since the eighth grade, and she gave him her virginity last summer. I still remember her telling me about it.
“Oh my god, it felt good!” she squealed. “But it was uncomfortable too.”
I hesitate for a moment.
“Was there blood?”
She bites her lip, nodding a bit.
“A little, but it wasn’t too bad,” my best friend says. “Just a tiny red smear.”
But still, that didn’t sound sexy to me. Blood makes me nauseous, especially the sight of my own blood. And despite Christina’s enthusiastic exhortations, after a couple more sips of wine from her mom’s stash, even she admitted the experience had been overrated. Christina loves Tyler, so I think she does it mostly for him because he really seems to enjoy it.
My mind is swirling with possibilities and as if in a trance, my finger wanders down the track pad before clicking on the ad.
What am I doing? I can’t be someone’s companion. This is another job I’m not qualified for because a man won’t want to be around me anyways. Maybe if I looked like the popular girls at school – thin with long blonde hair and big boobs, they’d be more interested. I do have the generous breasts, but unfortunately, the similarity ends there – I also have a pudgy stomach and full hips to go along with my bouncy Double Ds.
My body has always been overly curvy; there isn’t a piece of clothing that can hide my generous swells, but I’ve learned to live with it because what else can I do? It’s either smile and nod, or become a nun at the nearest convent.
But overall, I have to say that my appearance has gradually improved over the last couple years. I saved and saved for contacts, getting rid of my thick coke bottle glasses, and the new look seems to make boys notice. My brown curls still hide my face a little, especially when I find myself blushing, but they’re nice curls now, and not the wild bush I used to have before.
