The Girl Who Cries Colors

She doesn’t stop or slow down, though, and starts plucking at me like a chicken. When she yanks out a particularly painful patch, I clamp my hand over my poor eyebrows and smack her hand away. “Okay! Enough! I can’t handle it.”

“Please. You pushed Amorette out of your vagina. Your vagina,” she stresses, as if I somehow forgot my sixteen-hour labor, where all I had for pain relief was some poppleberries and a shot of pixie juice. Pain relief my ass. I felt everything.

“You can handle this,” she assures me, right after smacking my hand away from my forehead and continuing to pluck. “Luckily, you have a lovely natural arch. But it’s all about the clean up. You’ve got to keep up on these things. Don’t think I didn’t notice your chickweeds. I’ll be stopping by to wax those for you.”

I immediately cover my crotch area with my hands. “You come anywhere near my vagina right now, and I will make you fall in love with that guy who liked to snack on his mother’s fingernail clippings.”

She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Are threats really necessary?”

“When you want to pour hot wax on my girl grotto, then yes, threats are appropriate.”

She rolls her eyes and sets down the tweezers finally, before putting some finishing touches on my eyes and lips. “There,” she says proudly. “All done. You’re gonna dazzle them.”

She helps me stand, and I turn around to face the mirror. My jaw opens in surprise. I don’t even recognize my reflection. Instead of the slouchy hot mess I’ve been lately, I look like more than just a fat pregnant chick who can’t see her feet.

The dress accentuates my curves without making me

look bigger. The material hugs my body without it being tight, making it look like I’m not just a big ball of blob. The top of it dips down just barely between my breasts, highlighting my boobs while still somehow being somewhat modest. It ends in a train of soft silvery shimmers that drags behind me, and the sleeves flare out at my wrists.

My pink hair is perfectly coifed, and the rose twirls she’s created make me look like some kind of flower princess. My makeup isn’t too heavy, only being bold at the eyes where she’s lined them in black and added a subtle dusting of shimmer to the lids.

“Mossie, you made me look beautiful,” I say in surprise.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re always beautiful, I just helped polish you up a bit. You look like the best covey mate there’s ever been. Own it.”

When I start to tear up, she reaches up and smacks me on my cheeks. I flinch back, startled, and we blink at each other. “Sorry, I panicked,” she admits. “I didn’t want you to mess up the eye makeup I worked so hard on. No crying.”

I’m too afraid of getting slapped again, so I nod. “Okay. Noted.”

“Sorry, my lady garden has been growing thorns all week. I’ve been a bit on edge.”

I wince on her behalf. “That sounds awful.”

“It is,” she says seriously. She grabs my arm and starts leading me out of the bathroom. “Come on, let’s go make your mates drool. I’m watching Amorette tonight for you.”

“Thanks Moss. She always loves staying with you.”

“That’s because she has excellent taste,” Mossie replies primly.

Reaching the end of the hallway, Mossie stops me and walks in first. I hear her clap. “Okay, cupid mates, pay attention! Your female is ready to make her debut.”

Feeling jittery with nerves, I walk out, and all four of my mates stand up and turn around to face me.

Four sets of eyes lock onto me, and the air charges with intensity.

“…And that’s our cue. Come on, kid.” Mossie picks up Amorette and walks over.

“You look pretty, Mommy.”

I smile and kiss her. “Thank you, baby. Be good for Mossie, okay?”

Amorette nods excitedly. “I will. She’s gonna let me plant new seeds on her head.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“See you later,” Mossie says, giving me an air kiss. “Don’t eat too much and then pass out snoring on the restaurant’s floor.”

“That was one time,” I frown.