Don't you fuckin' look at me like that.

I won't be back till late, and maybe I won't come home at all tonight. We'll see. 

Isn't that what you always used to say when I was a kid? We'll see? Well, that's what I'm sayin' right now. We'll see.

Quit looking at me like that. Don't think I can't see you in the mirror while I'm putting on my make-up. I can see you. I don't wanna see you, but I can see you. 

Why the hell you standin' in the doorway, lookin' all sorry for me and shit? Shakin' your head and starin' at me with them big, sad eyes like I got cancer or something. Like I'm not gonna live till the next episode of that goddamn soap opera you addicted to. Why don't you leave me alone? Go bake some cookies or call up Aunt Tisha and cry on her 'bout how you raised a slut or I don't give a fuck what, just quit lookin' at me like I'm something to feel sorry for. 

I said I don't know when I'll be back. I said, I don't know! 

You aren't sorry for me, you sorry for yourself.  You got no idea where I'm going but you still all scared that some guy from church is gonna be there. That while he's enjoyin' lookin' at my gorgeous booty, he's gonna suddenly think don't she look familiar? Don't she look just like Denira Williams, just a hella lot younger?  And then them prissy ladies at church gonna make life hell for you and you'll just have to bear an even heavier cross for the Lord. 

Well, guess what? My face is the last thing they's fuckin' lookin' at. It goes like this, 'case you didn't know: hair, tits, number, tits, legs, tits, ass...and I'm outta the ring. Couldn't pick me out of a goddamn line up two minutes after they seen me, so don't go gettin' so worked up.  You think I'm on my way straight to hell? I'm making five hundred bucks cash tonight to strut around a boxing ring in a gold bikini with it all bustin' out, holdin' up a sign with a number on it.

Why not? I told you, I got a job tonight. Gotta work. Don't know how late. None of your business what it is. What the hell. I have a job, okay, that's where I'm going! You keep yakking my ear of to get ...I'll curse if I feel like it! I'll curse if I damn well feel like it!   

You think I'm dumb, don't have super grades in school or whatever, but I know what's what.  Been listenin' to what the other girls say. Games. That's where it's at. That's what plucks the wad outta their wallets and shoves it in your purse, not spreadin' like some ho. Bit a class. Not like you'd know what that was even if it slapped you upside your hymn-singin' head. 

That's what it's really all about. Playin'. And let me tell you, there's men out there pay a lot to play with what I got. 

Quit fuckin' lookin' at me like that. Get outta my room and let me get ready. 

You play your cards right, you can snag one of them guys what only likes to play. Just wants to watch you roll around on his carpet naked. Have you rub yogurt and jam on yourself and then watch you shower it off. Touch himself while you pretend to hump a giant, fluffy teddy bear.  There's big bucks in games, and no diseases or babies, goddamn it. 

I know what you want me to do. Go marry some boy from church before I'm 21, have kids hangin' off me like a jungle gym in no time flat, be poor as dirt and probably have to throw his lazy ass out after a few years for drinkin' or hittin' me.  And you'll be so proud of me when it happens, too. You'll finally be able to hold your head high. 

Fuck that. Three hundred bucks to roll around naked on some guy's rug and he pays for the cab home. Says please and good night. Fuck your boy from church and fuck your pot lucks and fuck your soap operas. 

No, it's not too much make-up. Yeah? Well, I don't care what you think I look like. How many times I gotta repeat myself? I got a job I'm going to! 

How much money that cleanin' service pay you for scrubbin', huh? Makin' your eyes tear up from them chemicals, givin' you callouses and havin' you clutchin' your back and groanin' like it's gonna snap in two? Makin' you call on Jesus so often he must be damn tired of hearin' your whiny voice by now.  How much dough you bringin' home a night, huh? Ain't no five hundred, is it? Shit.   

Get outta my room. Leave me alone. Gimme a few more months and I'm gonna have enough saved up, get myself my own place and screw you. Won't have to see your face scrutinizin' me in the mirror, lookin' so goddamned disappointed. 

Yeah, exactly. I look like a bimbo. That's the style today, didn't you know that? I don't give a damn what you think of that. Why don't you just let me get ready? Never mind. I'm leavin'. Yeah, right now. No, I don't know when I'll be home. I'm gonna go out lookin' any way I damn well please. How many times I gotta repeat myself?  

Just get out of my way if you know what's good for you. This bimbo's got a real job to get to.

And she's gonna fuckin' shine.