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Jenny Myst · (12-09-2017)

She twirled and spun in her dress. She had her new socks on. She was feeing good. The mirror in her room was new as well, and her reflection in it made her look new. She looked like a princess. As she spun, her tip toes smushed into the silky pink dance shoes that her ballet instructor provided her, she felt like she was pretty. All of the means comments from the other girls in her class, in school, none of them mattered because in that moment, she felt invinsible. Untouchable. Beautiful.

Truth was, inside, she was torn apart. She felt ugly, she felt like nobody loved her or cared about her, and her father only paid attention to her when she was wearing her tight ballet outfit. Same with her brother.

Her mother only paid attention to her if she won. There was constant pressure in her house to win. Her brother was an all-state football player, her father had been a dual-athlete, and her mother was the winningest divorce attorney on the coast. The only person who didn't care if she won or lost was her aunt.

As her spin came to a stop, she looked in the mirror. Her breasts were beginning to come in. There were small spots under her arms from persperation. Her legs burned from the razor burns mixing with sweat.

But the more she became a woman......the more she realized the pressure to win when you're ugly is a lot less than the pressure to win when you are pretty.

It may not be fair, it may not be right, and it may not be in everyone's favor, but it is reality. She saw it all the time in her mothers office. Her mother always represented the male clients. She watched them as they walked in. Nervous, sweaty palms, awkward. They take one look at her, and she could tell them anything. She literally charged a man a triple retainer without him blinking an eye, all because she was "hot." She wasn't the best attorney, but she won the most cases. Why? She was stammeringly pretty. It is a true advantage. She still remembered her mother's words "you can do anything you want, as long as you look the part." Success is measured by lipstick and eyelashes when you are a woman. A little skill helps, too.

She looked over at the table and saw the vial sitting there. Her aunt told her it was pixie dust. With this, it didn't matter what she looked like. Sprinkle some on herself, and all her dreams will come through. She will fly like a fairy. She will soar over hate and make the haters look foolish. All she needed was a little pixie dust and a dream.

She smiled as she grabbed the vial. She sprinkled it on herself. She was beautiful because she was herself. She headed out of the house feeling confident.

She broke her leg that day.

She wouldn't dance again.

She was still ugly.

Now she was ugly and had nothing.

.......at least if she was pretty she would have a leg up.

Bad pun.

"This division is more barren than your scarred womb, ON PURPOSE. This entire thing has been the plan all along. And going back to someone who called me simple? Do you think that maybe, just maybe, I KNEW he was going to do that? That this break up was a farce in order to look weaker while getting stronger? Mind blowing shit isn't it? And maybe, just maybe, I like the bad boys. You know, those girls who constantly run back to the guy who treats them like shit?"

She winks and bites her lip.

"I think its hot. This whole facade, just jealousy. A man, and a sexy one at that, WANTS me. You don't even want you, Mercy. Maybe you want a guy to call you simple, because that would require them to pay at least a second glance's worth of attention to you. But lets get one other thing straight........I didn't run back to Chris. HE ran back to ME. This entire thing was MY idea. I am the alpha female. I get what I want, when I want, how I want, from who I want. My "grade school Machiavellian philosophizing"? You are just annoyed that you aren't capable of free thought without Madison whispering in your ear. You are just mad that I pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone and had everyone, including you, fooled. You are so smart that you think you can give me life advice abou re-joining with someone who called me simple, but too dense to realize that I scripted it like an Emmy's cue card."

The World's Crustiest Cervix Said:You know, as difficult as it was to parse that garbage word salad you called a promo, one thing was crystal clear: that you don't care about the fact that you're hurting your own gender. You call us ugly because it affects us, ignoring the fact that using our looks against us does nothing but relegate us to second class citizen status, telling the world that women are only as good as their least attractive body part

"Ummm.....duh. We ARE only as valuable as our body in this business. Men pay money to look at our bodies. We are basically strippers with athletic talent. You are the type that they pay to be as heavily clothed as possible. YOU ARE only as good as your least attractive body part. You're about as useful around here as that womb of yours. Me? I am the total package, and that is why I sell box seat packages at every show. WE ARE WHAT WE LOOK LIKE. It always has been that way, and always will be. Second class citizens? Take that MSNBC nonsense somewhere else. Maybe if this wrestling thing doesn't work out, there is a job teaching at a Liberal Arts school somewhere down the road. "Lets face facts. This division has been a division of one for a while. I think you are too concerned with your American Horror Story extra-role to understand that this entire theory you try to pick apart, it actually makes a lot of sense. 1 plus 1 equals three. An ecosystem is only as strong as its weakest link. Madison the longer this division stays the way it is, the stronger it gets. I know, top level shit. This is philosophy 401. Advanced classes. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that----you can't even understand an analogy when you hear one. Yes you cost me the match, but what else have you done? You haven't shown your face other than a handful of times, and your impact has been.....well....lets just say it has come up a little short. Engy played me like a fiddle? Much to the contrary. Though I will admit, it was fun playing along. I thought maybe if I did it long enough he really would develop feelings for me. Oh well, that's a threesome that he won't get to have. You may think I am just some dumb blonde, but I have ALWAYS been in control.

I want you to beat me, Mercy. I want you to win this match, I want you to teach me a lesson. I want you to make me feel pain like I've never felt before. I want you to make me regret ever signing this contract, and competing for this belt. I want you to walk out of Savage with that pink card. Why? Well, it is simple.........

Because I want to beat you on the big stage. I want to pin your deformed ass 1-2-3 when the lights are brightest and the camera's are the most zoomed in. I want YOU to think you have ME on the ropes, just so I can crush your hopes and dreams of being a champion just like the hopes and dreams you have of ever having kids......

Crush them into little pieces and watch them blow away like pixie dust........."

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