"All my life I've avoided bathing suits, and now this!" The blonde pulled irritably at the strip of spandex spanning her ample ass and sighed gustily.
Privately, Brandi agreed. The only thing that kept her from bolting was the thought of the scholarship money. "gHarvard Business School?h, she said to herself reverently, and felt her courage rise even as she avoided looking into the full-length mirror.
Besides, Trish had hidden her clothes.
"Just a precaution, darling," her svelte and stylish manager had gushed. "Can't have the fans mauling your things."
Right.
"Harvard Business School," she repeated, barely aware of the murmur of her voice.
"Huh?" The blonde turned toward her. "You say something?"
Brandi started. "Oh! Just that this is the worst part, isn't it? My manager says the BeforeVid is always a skag. She says that the thing to do is to keep the AfterImage in the front brain. She said to look in the mirror and tell myself, 'This is the last time I'm going to have to appear in public like this, ever.'"
The blonde laughed. "Pretty good."
She faced her mirror, hands on jiggling hips, thrust out her barely-restrained tits and announced, "This is the last by-God time I'm going to have to look at that fat bitch in my life. Amen." She laughed again and blew a kiss to her reflection before turning back to Brandi. "Your turn, sugar. Kiss that puppy good-bye."
Reluctantly, Brandi aligned herself with the mirror; looked up and caught the reflection's dark gaze. Nice eyes, she allowed. I've always had nice eyes. Not that anyone could see them through the glare of her glasses; not that she could see anything without the glasses. She was among the rare half-percent of the world population with eyes too sensitive to tolerate contact lenses. Nano-tech could have repaired the myopia in three weeks. But nano-tech was fabulously expensive.
The Miss-New-You Beauty Contest was cheaper. Even if you did have to make the BeforeVid. You got to keep the new-you as consolation for that embarrassment, even if you didn't take top prize.
"Harvard Business School," Brandi whispered and glared at the woman in the mirror, with her horsy face and draggled, unmanageable hair. The spandex top of her bathing suit showed two bulges the size of chestnuts. Her waist was thick, her hips thicker, her thighs pale and pocked with cellulite. Sturdy legs tapered slightly to thick peasant ankles, and the feet in the chic gold sandals were stubby and hammertoed.
)
