Who Is Sexy Bitch? A Herstory, Part IV

I gotta say, it seems like a lot more than 300 years have passed since that old bat cursed me. Lessons learned, indeed! I’ve definitely seen a lot since that day in her cottage in the woods — I mean, you wouldn’t believe some of it if I told you. Which was her point, I guess.

By now I’ve pretty much done it all. When that old witch said she’d show me how others lived, she wasn’t kidding. I’ve lived lives I didn’t even know could exist — 53 of them, to be exact. I’ve sailed the world as a pirate and scrubbed floors as a chambermaid. Detassled corn in the midwest and flown on a trapeze under the Big Top.

Oh, I’m sorry, are you not following? Daphne, stuck-up petite noblesse who got knocked the f out by a bitter old witch so she could learn a lesson or two?

That bitch was me.

No one’s called me Daphne in a loooong while, though. They call me Sexy Bitch now — who knows for how long. I’ve been in this body for almost 30 years! Three decades is a long-ass time for a girl to be standing on her feet with her freaking arm at her ear inches from sweeping her wig off and her hip awkwardly jutted forward. But, the last three years have been pretty fun: I’ve been slinging vintage clothing as a model in the window of Miss Master’s Closet here in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. It was rough going when I first turned into a mannequin, though. Stuck vogueing in the most uncomfortable position possible, and completely shut out of all the rights to the movie that was supposed to be about my life. I’m sure you’ve seen it. With Samantha Jones and the nerdy guy from the Brat Pack? …Yeah, I thought so. So screwed up that I didn’t see a cent’s worth of royalties.

Yet, who’s complaining? Not yours truly. It’s not so bad these days. There’s a new man in my life (in the window of the shop, you may have noticed). It’s pretty fun working as a blogtrix, too. And trust me: I’ve got plenty of stories to tell. So stick around…


Who is Sexy Bitch? A Herstory, Part III

Daphne stared at the crone in horror.

“Teach… teach me a lesson? What do you mean?” she stammered.

“I mean that one such as you should walk in the shoes of others, to understand how sheltered she has been. That is the only way for the self-absorbed to have their eyes opened, to realize how far beyond them the world extends, and how myopic they have been.”

As she spoke, the old women laid her hand on Daphne’s shoulder. As she stared coldly into the young girl’s blue eyes,her voice dropped to a harsh whisper.

“The time has come… for you to change.”

Daphne felt the weight of the old woman’s hand as the fire-lit room around her began to sway and shift in her vision. She glanced, horrified, at the teacup next to her, which the old woman had offered her as they sat at the hearth, and from which she had sipped.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered.

“Your lesson has begun, my girl. From this day forward, you will live out the years as others have: compelled to work, to struggle, to suffer. No longer will you live the life of the uncaring,unwanting royalty you were born into. No, from now on your life will be that of the masses. I curse you, child, to a life — to LIVES — through which you will toil.  Only then will you gain understanding of what it means for others to exist on this earth.”

Daphne swooned.  Her legs seemed to give out from under her as she crumpled to the ground.  The old crone, hazy, hunched above her, was the last thing she saw.


Who is Sexy Bitch? A Her-story Part II

As Daphne spoke, she noticed the old woman’s eyes narrowing.  The girl slowed her speech and finally stopped talking as the wizened crone rose from her seat at the hearth, where she had led Daphne after she entered the cottage.  The old woman stood over her and said, through tightened lips, “My girl, you have no idea how easy your life has been.  You’ve wanted for nothing.  I have lived, and suffered, through centuries.”

Confused, Daphne looked at the woman scowling before her.  She pondered what she might have done to change the crone’s demeanor so quickly. “I’m so sorry,” she said.  “I suppose I’ve been quite rude–”

“And selfish. You always have been.  I’ve spied on you through the years, from my little corner of the woods. I’ve watched you play and grow and turn into the deserved girl I see before me. Thinking only of yourself, acting as though you were the only person in the world whose wants and needs mattered.  You lack empathy, my child.  I’ve long thought that someone should teach you a lesson… now it seems that someone will be me.”

Who is Sexy Bitch? A Herstory, Part I

Darlings! Sexy Bitch, your intrepid blogtrix, here.  I love a good story, don’t you?  What say I tell you one of my favorites?
Once upon a time…
As “the Sun King,” Louis XIV, was ascending to the French throne and making his court the epicenter of European culture and fashion, a young lady of noble extraction was betrothed by her parents.  The gentleman himself was of noble blood, but dry and dull as paper, with the smell of bottled apothecary mushrooms.
The girl, Daphne, had grown up knowing a life that bestowed upon her everything that she could ever want.  It seemed gravely unjust to her that her parents would deign to take away from her the life of luxury and freedom she knew as a child.
While walking outside the palace in sadness one day, she found herself roaming farther and farther into the woods on the edge of the grounds.  Soon she came across a small clearing, in which a tiny cottage sat.  Before she realized what was happening, Daphne realized she was knocking on its small, crooked door.
An old crone answered, wrinkled and bent but with eyes that seemed to bestow kindness on the girl.  As the crone led Daphne inside, the young woman found herself revealing her dismay and fear at having to marry a man she didn’t love.
…Tune in next week for the next scintillating installment of…