C M Weller
Published by C M Weller at Smashwords
Copyright 2014 C M Weller
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Other works by this author:
Nor Gloom of Night
It Happened One Wednesday
One Year of Instants
Interview Inside a Terrarium
The Amity Incident
One Leap year of Instants
All titles available at .
I have to confess. I love positive attention. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be good. When I didn’t want to improve myself. When I didn’t want to be wonderful.
It’s a good feeling. To be admired.
And it’s hard, so very very hard, to be perfect.
And yet, I have to try. I have to keep trying.
I think it started in school. I won a little award for Best Behaved. I think I was five? But for me, back then, it was as if I’d won the Nobel Peace Prize.
From that moment on, I had my eyes on every trophy and prize that I could win. I worked hard on my weekends and afternoons. I studied as much as I could. I was hooked and I wanted more.
I couldn’t understand how my parents and relatives were still proud of me, that one time I got a B on a report card in grade three. It was a personal disaster for me.
I could have done better.
From that day on, I did all the extra credit work, too.
Other kids called me a nerd. Teachers’ pet. And a lot of other, worse things, besides.
I didn’t care.
I wanted all the awards.
When I entered high school, I realised that grades were not enough. I also had to be popular. And if I wanted popularity, I had to be beautiful. I also had to attract attention without distracting the boys.
That was a difficult tightrope to walk.
I could do better.
Just enough makeup to look like I wasn’t wearing any makeup. Just enough clothing to show off my blooming figure without gaining the unwanted attentions of the male teachers.
I had to learn how to sew, just because the shops didn’t stock anything that fit the dress code.
I kept my straight A’s despite the times someone pulled me out of class for being too attractive. It was hard. And I made the kind of friends that promised better futures.
But people wanted more.
I want to be better.
I still don’t understand it, to be honest. All these things I had to have with a perfect scholastic record and not gathering hate from any of my peers. I had to be classy. I had to be genial. I had to be open and flirtatious with the boys, but not that open or I’d become a slut.
I couldn’t date the boy every girl in school wanted or I would be a bitch.
And I couldn’t date in the ways the boys wanted because I would definitely be a slut.
I had to be pure. But I had to be available. And I could never, ever allow myself to become a bitch.
Finding myself a boyfriend helped. He said he was ace, and that was good for me. It allowed me to belong to a boy without being a slut. It allowed me to be taken without being trash. And everyone agreed that we were so cute together.
Things only got harder from then on out.
I have to be better.
It’s a tricky choice. Settle down and have children versus being career-oriented. I settled on being a Yummy Mummy. Keeping my body fit by jogging around the neighbourhood with my little darling in her stroller. And running a small business industry at home. Donating to charity, of course, and keeping my name out there.
But I could be better, and I knew it.
So many others were better. Richer. More famous. Prettier. More learned.
I threw my love of scholastic achievement into learning everything I could about how to get famous. How to get rich. How to become a celebrity.
And it worked, for a little bit.
Lack of sleep has it’s impacts.
The treatments began. I listened to lectures on headphones while I was forced to sit still to reduce the bags under my eyes. To breathe life back in to my skin. A skin ruined by the diets and exercise to keep my body in a perfect size.
Gravity started to drag at me.
The criticisms stung.
I was still working hard to maintain myself, but I knew. I could be better.
Being rich helped. I could have nannies to look after my little darling. Tutors to make sure they excelled at school. Coaches and trainers and chefs to pick up the slack where my maintenance ate my time.
I needed to be better.
My husband left. With half my earnings, the summer place, and my little darling. And somehow, people loved me more. I was independent and making my own way. Some hailed me for not needing a man.
Others derided me for not working harder on our relationship.
There was always more work. There’s always more work.
I want to be perfect.
Making millions and pulling myself up by my bootstraps was not enough. Doing everything in my power to look after myself was not enough. Being loved by millions was not enough.
I could be better.
I had run out of resources, so I consulted with experts. How to improve my style. How to improve my beauty regime. How to improve my body.
I’m one of the biggest female earners in the world and I am spending almost all of it on myself. Becoming perfect.
I’m nearly there, I can feel it.
It’s cost me my marriage. My daughter. Most of my friends. Billions of dollars. Four ribs, parts of my cheekbones and a significant loss of my health.
I’m nearly there.
But I could be better.
Thank you for reading this book!
I hope you enjoyed reading Better, I would love to hear your thoughts about it.
If you are interested in sampling some of my other books, or to get my contact details and let me know what you thought, please visit my website at:
As an indie author, word of mouth is everything, so if you enjoyed my book, or even if you didn’t but you can think of someone who would, I would be ever so grateful of you can tell some friends about me, make a post on your blog, or social media website to let folks know.
Thanks once again!