Love stings

Fiona twirled on the spot, admiring her figure from every angle in the mirror. Smooth face, no blemishes and any that threatened to mar the gorgeous landscape had been heavily smothered under a smooth base of foundation. Luscious well formed lips with a distinct cupid's bow and that too, was so obviously penned in by nature. Just a smudge of lip gloss was enough to clearly accentuate the gifts nature had so bountifully endowed. Long stretchy neck like a gazelle's, the twin mounds on her chest were prominent enough to cause a commotion as they led in the beauty behind.

She twirled once again and observed her "bootilicious" behind. Her major complaint about her body was a slight, almost unnoticeable bulge in her underbelly and even though she had been assured several times by her friends that this feature helped to enhance the altogether "Marilyn-Monroesque" smoky nature of her special brand of sexiness, her candid belief was that it was the only noticeable flaw on the otherwise perfect master piece that was FIONA!

An onlooker would have been extremely bewildered at what followed next, but to all those who knew Fiona, it was all part of what she called her "Project 10 0ver 10 appeal". She strutted up to the mirror, and strutted back down the length of her room. Up down, up down, up down - each time changing one little thing about the way moved, the way her waist pivoted on her hips, a little jiggle here, a little bounce there, the final stance upon getting back to the mirror: striving to achieve that "I am sexy, I know it and you do too, I just can't help it, I was born this way, eat your hearts out and die ladies" casualness in her gait and stance.

Satisfied that she had uncovered the best pose to unleash 360 degrees of fabulousity upon an unsuspecting world, she proceeded to examine every possible facial gesture known to man in her mirror. The "pouty, little girl" look, the "bewildered, can't help myself, need your strong arms to lift this little handkerchief off the floor" gaze,  the "OMG, you just scared pretty ol' me" look, the "gosh, you are such a funny young man, how am I so blest" look; and a whole range of others.

Satisfied, Fiona heaved a huge sigh of relief, she had all that she needed to face the world in pursuit of her dreams today and the most important accessory of all, was lying impatiently on the bed, a bit amused at the extent of care being put into a short trip down the street to pick up a tin of sardine and loaf of bread from the corner retailer, a bit exasperated that all that effort was in her own candid opinion, a collosal waste: the obligatory Plain Jane that served to heighten Fiona's almost ethereal presence.

"Abeg na", Naomi burst forth. "Hunger wan bend my mouth here, no be only to go buy sardine and bread? Whish kain levels be dis wan again?"

"I have told you several times before Naomi, that every step you take outside that door is an opportunity to present yourself well. A perfect packaging is an indication that what lies underneath can fulfill hidden promises", Fiona replied in a well modulated, perfectly toned, flawless, near American accent, the result of years of careful effort.

"Abegi, leave wetin dem write for motor enter motor joor" Naomi retorted as she stormed outside to wait. From experience, she knew there was another 5 to 10 minute wait before Her Royal Majesty unleashed herself on an unsuspecting world....