Promised to the Tyrant
My face, as usual, is plain & pale, with dark circles under my stark green eyes, another of my mother’s distinct non-Italian features.
I am just glad that my usually wild & fiery red curly hair is behaving themselves, despite the long car ride, but the mane that sits on my head still looks too big for my face and body. But at least today they won’t get me a lot of attention, neither in a good nor bad way, I hope.
“Oh My, Oh My! Camel Toe is here.” As soon as I hear Elenora, all my earlier hopes of being invisible disappear. I hate that name ‘Camel Toe’, it’s