The peasant life was tough, too tough for some and that included Bailey Roberts, a girl who lived in Malibu by the beach.

Short blonde hair, frizzy and somewhat unkept, tied in what appeared to be a pony tail that ran just to the nape of her neck, Bailey had just finished her daily jog around the block - because peasants, as one of her sisters had described her, couldn't afford the simplistic luxuries the rest of her spoiled family could afford.

She lived in a small beach house, no pets, no boyfriend and no neighbours, it was a quiet area to reside, almost impossible to locate unless you knew what you were looking for, and it was this that made Bailey wish she had more.

A life saver, that was her occupation, while her family barely worked a dime, owning big companies where work was done for them and featuring in full length movies that didn't count as porn, she decided to seclude herself and live the "typical American lifestyle", a mistake she quickly learned of.

Bailey had lived alone ever since she turned 21, packing the little of her possessions and using the money she had saved up from small jobs she had taken here and there to buy the small beach house she had.

Peasant life was a fucking bitch.

But the young woman stood strong, trying her best to ignore the photos from her family's vacations and the expensive new toys they'd buy, it was just another fantasy she decided to skip out on.

Bailey sighed and blinked slowly, warm blue eyes looking at her target: the mail box, which unlike usual, was overflown with one letter, not much to some but a whole lot more to her.

It was like this every year, one day she'd relax the next she'd get a letter, inside supposedly was another cheque from her siblings who pitted her like some lost animal on the street.

She flipped the envelope, sure enough reading the address on the back from her old hometown. "Willows town, Wisconsin, I wonder what this is this time." With a roll of her eyes, she fiddle with the paper, tearing the back open to pull out the thin paper she could only recognise as a cheque. She gave a low whistle, eyes boring into the carefully printed letter that were scrawled out in the usual pink ink.

"A cheque of $50,000." Bailey BIT her lip, flipping the golden embossed designer stationary. "From Skipper, Todd, Tutti, Stacie, Kelly, Krissy, Chelsea and..." she went silent, sighing with envy before muttering out her own twin's name, "Barbie... of course."

Not many people knew of Barbie's twin, of course everyone knew Barbie though. That famous movie star who somehow got even more famous than Kim Kardashian's own movie - about porn, and even Bailey knew that Kim K deserved more praise for that than her sister did with her entire career.

To say that she was jealous was sugar coating it. She envied Barbie, the almost plastic looking sister that just had to wave her money like it was a flag. That was partially the reason Bailey left home and never accepted the cheques.

Because who needed money from a plastic boob and butt queen?

The one thing that Bailey still wondered however, was how her twin still managed to look like her. They were identical twins, unfortunately for Bailey's case, meaning that getting away from Barbie wasn't exactly easy, they shared the same face, and f that wasn't a bad enough reminder every morning in the mirror, then the millions of fans that stopped her every day would have to be the worst.

But Bailey chose that life, the apparent simplistic life of a 'peasant' - where the only catch was that she had to wear the stupid face of her spoiled sister permanently.

Bailey hated Barbie's guts and if turning down a $50,000 cheque didn't clue you in, get yourself an education on basic social skills cause seriously man, it's pretty fucking obvious.