I am so happy, I could die.

Seriously, check out E! Online and click on Who's Cuter without Makeup and click on Angelina. Don't see her big face, just read the comments. Let me give you some examples;

cal Oct 4 08, 6:08 AM

-.i don't see the big deal about her...she just isn't all that pretty even with all her make-up

antibotox Oct 4 08, 5:52 PM


-they give nicole kidman such a hard time about her botox, but it looks like angelina is going overboard with it too


Now, I can die in euphoria. HAHA. Serves you right big lipped woman!



Anyway, this is specially for Adlin -and Ofiellia- Sorrylah if it's horrible, I'm not good with words.

So here's the thing, My father is Patrick Jones, number 55th in Forbes top-earning Businessman in the World. He died when I was only two months old. Then enter my mother, a has-been model who has worked with names like Christian Lacrouix, Chanel and numerous others. Doesn't my life sounds glamorous? Not really, especially if your mother gave you to your father because she reckons she's just not the mama-type. Add that with losing your father due to a freak accident and having passed around to relatives because your mother still thinks she's not mama-type. When I turned 3, it's either the light has been shed upon her or she completely lost her mind(aging side effect) because she decided to finally let me in. I was perfectly happy to at last, being accepted by the persn who gave me birth. However, I've come to know everything must have a catch. The thing is, my mother has this illusion about me taking over the world. She pictures me strutting my way down the runway. Of course she loves me. It's just that dissapointment got the better of her when she found out that she gave birth to a big boned, huge bosom and has a butt that fills the jeans kind of girl. At least thats what I tell myself. My mother wants me to have everything she didn't get when she was young. She doesn't get it that I don't want everything. To be frank, she doesn't even care that I don't want everything. Which leads you to a huge closet full with designer handbags, tailor-made dresses paid on credit card that I'm willing to bet on my Playstation 2, its still hasn't been paid off yet. I am not a spoiled rich brat who spends all day whining about not getting enough money. I'm perfectly happy if I had to go to public school. There's nothing wrong about that. Instead, I have to enter Scene 2: The Land of Wannabees and Posers. Not like there isn't anyone nice in my school, in fact I have my share of friends, but it's inevitable to not hate them no matter how nice they are, when they look like they're imported from the runways of Paris and Milan. Of course, they say they don't think I'm fat, but how stupid can I be? I may be fat but the fats doesn't crams my bain and makes it hard to differentiate between a truth and a lie. between the fantasy and the reality. Heaven sake, I see the reality everytime I pass the mirror. I don't belong here. I tried to convince my mother, just send me to a public school and I'll be the happiest girl ever lived plus in the same time, doing her a favor. It's not like I don't know how much a private school costs. But she's like a bull, once she sees something red, she goes for it, no matter the obstacles she has to go through. So there you get me, a nobody in the land where everyone's a somebody.