Aunt kiki - creative writing.

Its not that she's not pretty but, her desperation envelopes her inner beauty. But her outfit is acceptable today. In the kitchen as usual with her madcap but somehow admirable hairstyle. The atypical use of jet black and electric blue colour make her hair look like a swirling vortex, swallowing the galaxy. Today she has decided to show of her long, spider like legs, wrapped around her a blue denim skirt. It looks rather like a rubber band tied around her waist. Her arms are toned and she's naturally tanned. Stepping into the garden she glistens like the sun (which she never fails to show of her skin) unfortunately, the tight top shows her belly that looks like jelly. Her flab sticks out, bobs up and down as she strides. Her top is a bright sky blue with silver writing "sexy bitch". the laces of her espadrilles spiral up to her knees making a criss cross pattern, the heels themselves are about 6 inches high, which make her look like a daddy long legs. She has a relatively small body, long legs and a big head. Colour co-ordination is an essential part of kikis like. She always said to me " a man wont go for you for your looks, but only if you know how to dress, always try to impress" I pondered the questioning whether people do indeed marry for looks or for mainly for love. Her attitude was always so negative towards men so that when she does get one, he ends up running away. Looking out to the garden fighting back the tears as she tells me about another one of her "men" only if she could see clearly through her contacts, they're like a window or door and the solitary way to get through it (she thinks)is by pleasing society and trying to seek the perfect man.

Her pride swallows her and stops her from accepting the truth, to love and care for your body, no stranger has a right to see it, anarchy is what I call it, but she calls it freedom. Tears of rejection flow down her face furthermore the foundation on her face itself looks like a second layer of skin, trying to cover all close "unseen blemishes", mascara is dripping down her eyes like a stream of blood. If love causes this much pain why do so much to get it, I wonder. Then ironically she whispers "men aren't worth it". I see both the physical and mental destruction and Annihilation that wanting to be loved badly has caused. I believe that patience is a virtue. Her mind is now twisted after bad experience with men. Now I know I know. This is like a warning not to be a victim of love. I will not exploit myself for others who are just like me.