“Look At Me Now!”

I just strutted down the little catwalk that leads to the steps down to the Maury stage. I’ve got my fiercest face on, my lips are parted so I don’t mess the gloss, and I’m staring ahead like the panther I hope I’m convincing you I have become. I’m tugging my tiny bra top a little over my overinflated balloon breasts, flipping my too-long, too-blond hair. I’m hoping you don’t hate me because I am so beautiful.
I’m careful not to fall down the few steps to the main stage, but it’s kinda hard to do in these five-inch platform shoes that I hope make my legs look extra sexy. According to the boys in the back in the baggy jeans and the baseball caps, the ones giving me a standing ovation, they are! So when I get to the center of the stage, I turn around and shake my ass for the camera and for the boys. And also, of course, for Greg, the guy who’s waiting to see how I turned out, 15 years after he used to tease me so much that I had to leave school. I had a crush on him, even though he treated me like shit!
Then I sit down in a tall stool and, as I cross my legs, you can see a little flash o’ panty. Or am I wearing any to begin with? I’ll never tell.
But what I will tell is that you, Greg, hurt my feelings in junior high. And even into high school. You hurt my feelings so much because I was a geek with “Coke bottle glasses” and stringy hair. I was skinny with bad skin and dorky clothes, and you used to throw things at me, slam me into the lockers, and call me names. You hurt me so much then, but now I’m over it.
I’m so over it that I changed my name. I’m so over it that I now have to make fun of the way I looked then too. I’m so over it that I’ll tearfully accept your lame, limp apology. And hey, I’m so over it that I’ll even thank you for how you treated me because if it hadn’t been for the abuse, I never would have turned into the New Me you see before you!
Thank you, Greg!