too glam to give a damn >> pp blitz

P O P P Y

Honestly? I don't really like Patty that much.

She doesn't take care of herself, at least not in the way I think is appropriate. She should do her hair every morning, take pride in her personal style and aesthetic. If she would just let me make her a new wardrobe, design some more flattering outfits, and teach her how to do her make up - she could be so hot!

I don't know how many times I have to tell her that before she will start to listen.

"Are you ready?" I shout from the confines of my father's home office turned my new fashion studio. What? I needed the space, okay? I was running out of room to hold all my fabric and mannequins. I don't use those skinny ass ones most designers use. They're useless, especially when you're curating clothes for a much more sexy and voluptuous body - not some rail thin skeleton who's clothes practically fall right off them. Yuck!


"UGH! Come on, Patty! I don't have all night!" I whine, starting to get annoyed. It's only exacerbated as Percy ducks his head into the room. 

"You could not scream, you know? Some of us are doing homework and trying to concentrate." He puffs out his chest as if he isn't as short as my fuckin' boobs, and I couldn't still lay him out like I did when we were younger. 

"Shut up, nerd," I chortle back, with as little recognition of his existence as possible. "This is my house, too. I can yell if I want to. You could use headphones!" He doesn't respond, just rolls his eyes and slinks back to the dark, stinky hole he calls a bedroom, and I feel so good about that interaction. Percy always thinks he's got something important to say, like his words are a gift to us and the world. 

Boy, have I got news for him!

Patty enters a few minutes later, red in the face and practically shaking, asking if it's gonna hurt. And I try not to laugh right in her rosy cheeks. She's so helpless! "You're joking, right? Why would it hurt? Unless I'm terrible at this - and we both know I'm not."


I usher her over to the three full-length mirror set up I put together in the far corner of the room. "Step up," I tell her, offering her a hand to steady herself onto the platform. "What are we thinking?" I ask, pulling out my tape measure and hooking my strawberry needle case onto my wrist. "Any colors you had in mind, or do I get complete creative control?" I ask, a wicked grin curling across my face.

P O P P Y

"What if we matched maybe?"

I almost choke, eyes wide and stomach churning at the thought. She can't be serious, right? She has to be joking! But it only takes me a few seconds to realize she's not just being funny. "I would rather DIE," I spit out venomously - my usual tone whenever Patty is in the room. I just have no patience for her for some reason, and I haven't since the day she was born.

Aka, the worst day of my life.

"My dress is a masterpiece," I say, nodding over toward the opposite corner at the tiered chiffon-layered pomegranate-colored dress I'd spent nearly the entire school year making. "Meant for a work of art." Gesturing at myself, I lean forward toward the mirror and fix a bit of smudged gloss.

Clearly, I mean me.

"Yellow will wash you out, too, so NO. God do you even have eyes? You can see, right? Or do we need to get them checked?"

I'm thinking silver or perhaps navy, maybe with some of that cute diamond-like trim I picked up last month. I could so easily make her a corset-top or something, show off her actual shape and frame, which is quite nice actually. If she'd just flaunt it!

I walk away for a few moments to retrieve fabric and return with a pin already out and ready to go. "Okay, hold still," I order, then begin to wrap the long patch of silver around her bodice. "Silver and navy, those are your colors, sis. You should know that, honestly."

I roll my eyes at her lack of fashion sense.