Not only am I being shipped off to boarding school....

Today, I am being shipped off to the salons.

To be pried, pokes, highlighted, waxed (OUCH! They are going to pay.......)

I came downstairs wearing comfy clothes...

And ballerina flats. I mean, this is tame. For me.

She has a hissy fit.

She sends me back up, saying she "bought me a few things she thought would be useful. Till we go shopping for school."

I come back down looking similar to a two cent whore.

Mini skirt. (Thank god I shaved....I mean, what if I hadn't?!)

Little strappy shirt.

Tiny little sweater....and HEELS.

I mean, come on! Who am I? Lindsay Lohan!?

She then proceded to yell at me about how "ratty" my long hair was.

Obviously, she hasn't seen Ashlee Simpson lately. (That copycat. She was at the club the night I had dyed my hair black. The next day, she went from dumb blonde....to a dark, raven haired beauty, that oddly resembled my mop.)

This is trying my patience.

I'll let you know the outcome when I get back.

If I get back.

Currently Playing Afterglow By Sarah Mclachlan see related

"Its highly prestigious." Or so says my mother.

For some reason, she thinks that boarding school is the solution to rampant teens.

I guess she's never examined Chris, my brother very closely.

What I've seen from him is that is a den of fornicating, debauchery, and everything else that parents fear most.

My mother. Selective vision and hearing.

She seems to think I have to change my appearance.

"Just think! You can start all over. No more pressure to be like those terrible friends of yours with they're colored hair and piercings! Aren't you excited?"

Gee mom, sure. Thanks. Because I really want my black hair to be highlighted. And I've always wanted fake nails and mini skirts to be part of my life.

But I didn't say that to her.

You can't talk like that to my mother.

Unless you're Chris.

I merely nodded....while forming a plan.......

I can't believe she's doing this to me.

I know its because Bea got her lip pierced.

She flipped over the whole gauged ears things.

Now this.

My school is a school for delinquents.

I'm going to miss Bea and Andy like hell.

I was just getting to know Andy.

I loved his wacky hair.

His scraggly brows

The battered taylor guitar he cherished.

He was going to write me and Bea a song.

But now I'm being shipped off to Hell.

And poked, prodded and highlighted in the process.