The Dumped Club

9- Never Perfect

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The media camouflages so much of our day to day lives that sometimes, I want to throw my phone at the wall and never go on the internet again. It's like a fairytale for children; the girl wakes up looking flawless, they pick out the perfect outfit, have a healthy breakfast and they're always in a good mood. It never focuses on the girl who has a bad hair day, with eye-crust in the inner corners of her bloodshot eyes, the girl who has no time for a remotely healthy breakfast and the girl who only has the goal of getting through the day.

The mess of a girl is thought of as an embarrassment but she's the realistic out of the two. You don't wake up in the best mood every single day. You don't wake up looking like a celebrity. And the media doesn't understand that it's OK to be that way.

I had one of those messy mornings. All I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and never come out when I realised that I still hadn't finished my newspaper page and Eliza was going to have my head if I didn't turn it in. I was still miserable from last night, my phone was uncharged, my skin was pale and oily against the dark crescents under my eyes, my shirt had a stain on it.

The next day was lackluster as well. I didn't talk during breakfast or the car ride to school, just looked outside and fiddled with the buttons on my blazer. Mum had reassured me that Aunty Lauren didn't mean a word of what she said but I perfectly well knew that she did. Amy kept me up until midnight, complaining about how much of a boaster she was and ranted on about how Marie flirted with Fred. If she thought that I liked him then she had the wrong idea. Heck, I didn't even think we were friends.

The school day went slowly, the only exciting thing was the print of the newspaper. People all over the school were reading it and that kind of raised my mood just a little bit but it didn't relive the tension in my stomach. I wasn't a professional at giving advice, I merely applied on a whim so my nerves were stretched by the end of the day.

But if the torture wasn't already enough, I had to babysit Martin for a few hours. Mum and Paul were going out for dinner and I knew Amy wasn't going to be a huge help so I wallowed in my own pain during the bus ride home. All I wanted to do was to stay in bed and do things that had nothing to do with writing, school or communication. I hoped that babysitting meant lying on the sofa and watching cartoons with my brother and not doing anything else. Who am I even kidding, this whole night is filled with false hopes.

"You're alright with watching him until ten?"

"Yes Mum. Go out and enjoy yourself," I reassured.

Amy was not happy that they were going out to dinner. She argued that she had too much coursework to work on and she won't be able to concentrate if Martin was running around like a wild monkey. I could see Mum internally struggling and hesitation setting in her columbine blue eyes. I'll admit, sometimes Amy and I acted like children. We would get overdramatic, throw tantrums and cry when we got told off but in this situation I felt like we had to step back. Not saying that I adored Paul but Mum had tired herself out for the past few weeks and she deserved a night out.

I dragged Martin to the sofa and made him pick a cartoon to watch. Mum gave each of us a kiss and Amy munched on popcorn and frowned at the TV.

"Patman Post? Seriously Mart? Have you ever watched Teletubbies? Lazy Town?"

Martin shook his head and kept his eyes glued to the screen. Amy looked at me with an incredulous expression before muttering, "Kids these days."

I rubbed my eyes after the slow and tiring day at school and slumped against the cushions. Exhaustion washed over me and the noise from the TV softly buzzed in my ears as I let sleep-