Beauty Privilege Novels & Stories

She wanted to maintain her beauty; her happiness. "God has blessed me with beauty so that I can be useful to my family. Not only to me, but this beauty is also a source of happiness for those around me. This beauty has a deeper meaning than what you mentioned. Only those who possess it understand." Triana said. "Sweetheart, you shouldn't have said that to her," Catherine whispered. Triana furrowed her brow. "That's what father told me. He said that I should take pride in my beauty. And I'm doing that now."

When she felt she had stared enough, she asked; “What does beauty have to do with all of this? Some other maids mentioned it too, but I’m finding it a bit hard to believe. I want to hear it directly from you. Is this true, or is there something else important I should know before I let you go?” As I gazed at her, I hesitated, trying to find the right words. On the contrary, I admired Catherine’s beauty. She always looked stunning with or without makeup, and her figure, and stylish fashion sense. I wasn’t on strict dieting like her, I rarely wore makeup and didn’t have the fashionable designer clothes she often wore. So, why would she envy my beauty? “I believe it’s true,” I said firmly. “Alo

Noel was utterly unhappy with Vera's attitude. However, despite her outburst and demand for his gang to leave, Vera sat on the couch instead, with two of his boys standing behind him. He then took out a bottle with the Beauty Pill. "Don't turn us down so quickly, Ms. York. If anything, you're lucky that we took an interest in you. After all, this Beauty Pill that we've developed on our own is a skincare product tailored for women. Try it—we won't bother you if it's ineffective."

She just wanted to die. Her beauty gave her confidence. Without it, she felt broken and didn’t want to live. What was worse... Hunter brought a mirror for her to see her reflection daily. And each day, she looked uglier than before. For Zara, beauty wasn’t just a trait, it was her entire identity. Her strength. Her weapon. From a young age, she was praised, admired, and even envied for her looks. Compliments were her currency. For her doors didn't open because of her voice, ideas, or her achievements in the medical field; but because of her face.

She seemed to be a constant source of irritation for him, which meant she became a constant source of irritation for me. Bailey had never been normal. She wasn’t like the rest of the girls in school. She forever had her head in a book, or was always studying. It was humiliating having a younger sister that knew more than you. Not to mention embarrassing that she didn’t take much pride in her appearance like so many of the she-wolves within our pack. She was just not normal. I mean, she was never ugly, she had gained our Mum’s curls, and big brown eyes. She would always be considered pretty. Even with those ridiculous glasses she used to wear. But, she wasn’t bothered about the recent fashion

I'm not sure what the advantages of the man who is always glorified by the entire campus are; besides his handsome face, what else does he have? Ah, let me introduce myself; my name is Jasmine Smith. There is nothing special about me; it's just that my family is quite rich, so my life feels very easy. I can get anything I want. But somehow, my life feels bland. Maybe because I have too much money, I no longer have the motivation to get something.

Then, I confronted him sternly, "I'm here for a facial. Why did you take my clothes off?" Looking stunned, he jeered. "Oh, Daphne, do you really not know what kind of place you're at?" "A beauty salon! What place is this?" While speaking, I felt a wave of heat rapidly spreading from the pit of my stomach across my body. Caleb, who noticed my change, pinned me down on the bed. He traced my body with his slender fingers, sending me trembling. As much as I would like to struggle and break free, my body already went limp after Caleb's teasing. I lost control of my body and couldn't push him off me. Breaking down, I yelled, "What are you doing? This is rape—"

It would be a close call. I looked at the mirrors and turned to praising her, for being so sexy and beautiful while making a baby. She was not the gay Madison Avenue vision of skinny beauty - too skinny to make babies - that image they had sold to Americans in commercials for beer and sports and movies and sexy cars, etc. Instead a real, all-around picture of beauty and health and fitness, a classical, timeless beauty, a Mediterranean beauty that is real, full figured with hips to bring children, an image the whole world admires. Then I wove the two thoughts together.

But over the years you become demanding and in search of something perfect, but then ended tired of the unique lifestyle of women. There was so much pomposity, so much paraphernalia, so much drama, and yet not a single humble feeling crossed the minds of the women in my social circle. Yes, they were beautiful women even under those pounds and pounds of makeup they insisted on wear and of course, they were also beautiful once they spent half a container of makeup remover thanks to the hundreds of treatments they used to undergo to look “natural”, and that was fine I mean, who didn't like a pretty woman? There was no problem with it, the only problem was that there was nothing beyond physical

"Here, beauty is worshiped, Nadya. You're still the prettiest. Be happy for that." I don't know if this is right or wrong, but that's how it happened. In this city, it is better to be born poor than to be born ugly. In this city, plastic surgery is ubiquitous. It is customary for fat people to be called pigs in this city, and people with poor facial bones are called chimpanzees; it is also natural for someone beautiful or handsome to be called a god or goddess. Too much, but that's how it is. I do not know when beauty and good looks are so revered. "But is that really so?" asked Nadya.