The other side of that popular, pretty girl.

I tugged restlessly at the itchy woolen sweater my mother had forced me to wear and glanced at myself in the mirror that sat on the floor of my bedroom. I pushed my glasses lightly up the bridge of my nose, adjusting them as fit. I wanted to rip my hair out of the pigtails mother had so relentlessly forced into my mud colored hair and smooth it out so it looked at least halfway decent. But of course she'd see it and make me let her put them back in. Sometimes I hated my mom. She's a great mom, don't get me wrong, but really, sometimes I just can't stand her. I stood up, picking up my contacts case from the bottom drawer of my desk, and tucking it away into the bottom crease of my backpack. I sighed and smoothed the jeans that had managed to be still unnoticed my mother who way more excited for my first day of high school than I was. I would never fit in like this. That was why before I even go on the bus, I would rip out those pigtails, take off the glasses and get ready to express the real me. Of course after school I'd have to put everything back on. Just for mommy. I wanted to slap that woman.
'Bridgette, baby!! Time to go! come on down!!' I heard my mother's shrill voice call from downstairs, and with a silent roll of my eyes, I leapt off my bed and opened the door to my bedroom, making my way down the stairs and giving a weak, defeated smile to mom. She didn't know how much I wanted to tell her how stupid I looked. I sorta let her walk all over me. She's my mother. How can one let their own mother walk on them? Well...looks like I've achieved the impossible.
Because this was my life. Life with my crazy, physco-bitch mom. Most people take me on to be the perfect goody two shoes. But I'm definitely not. Mom doesn't know half of the real me. Ha! She doesn't know any part of the real me. I live a life behind the mask. Life at school and at home is so different. But truthfully, I'm not afraid to flaunt myself and be confident like mom thinks I am. I'm more afraid...of her. Afraid of standing up to her. Afraid of showing her...me.