Not Perfect Enough

Chapter 3

This chapter is dedicated to _melanin_xo. I love her so much🤧❤️

~CHIDINMA~
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~Why won't he just notice me for once?~
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I'm beautiful. I am, aren't I?

I stare at myself through my dressing mirror. My long grey-colored knotless braids are pulled up into a high ponytail with two free strands at the front giving me a cute look.

I'm putting on makeup but the subtle kind that screams 'Natural beauty but with a dash of artificial touch.' My lips are painted light peach that blends with my brown skin.

I'm wearing a spaghetti-hand grey singlet with a plum-colored jacket and a miniskirt. My white boots are high but not so high that I'll be taller than my date.

The girl from the mirror looks beautiful and classy. Not desperate and trashy.

I pick a small white Fendi bag before going downstairs.

My mother is sitting down on the longest couch in the living room, sipping tea as usual. It's like all she ever does is drink tea.

I plan on strolling past her unnoticed but my plans go down the drain when I hear . . .

"Elena darling,"

My mom always calls me by my English name. My language name is too . . . rundown for her.

She sets her cup of tea on a coaster before standing up and walking toward me. She's wearing heavy makeup although she has nowhere to be. Her natural hair is shiny and long, falling over her shoulders. She has on her signature red lipstick painted on her lips. Her dress is short, black, and handless with her high red bottoms.

She looks nothing like a mother, not to talk about being mine.

"Where are you going this evening?" she asks with a hint of English accent. I have no clue where gets it from, she's never been there as far as I can tell.

"I'm going on a date with Zee." I announce proudly with a smug look, and she gasps dramatically.

"Really? That's such great news!" She claps but she stops herself, and turns to stare at me with disgust written all over her expression.

"But why are you dressed like that?" she asks with an irritated tone, and my jaw drops.

"Mom, I don't think there's anything wrong with my out—"

"Don't you finish that sentence, young lady!" she warns, raising a finger to the air.

"You're going on a date with Ezra Bankole. A Bankole! The apparent heir to the Bankos industries infact . You dare wear such a heinous outfit!" she screeches, and I internally frown.

"Take this off," she says flicks my jacket.

"But mom—" she silences me with just a look.