Meet Hilary. She grew up in Oklahoma City in a blue-collar family. She wasn’t a stellar student – her smarts were more the street kind. After barely graduating high school, she got a job as the shot girl at a nightclub, where she dated bouncer after bouncer, and then finally the manager. One day, he surprised her with tickets to Tulum for a romantic getaway. While there, she met a (much) older gentleman, Alexander, waiting for a drink at the bar. He was probably 30+ years her senior, and had an unidentifiable accent. She was completely uninterested until he mentioned that he had flown there privately, and was an international business attorney. Suddenly – and it was the weirdest thing. – Alexander became inexplicably gorgeous. How has she not noticed the quality of his linen shirt before now? His watch!! A confidence only befitting those who were adults during the Iran hostage crisis. That twinkle in his eye… Or was that an overactive tear duct? Never mind, Alexander was suddenly the living antidote to every daddy issue she’d ever had. Hilary left the club manager she’d come with right then and there, and never looked back. Within six months, Alexander had trained her to fit the role of arm candy. Although, he wanted sophistication so she familiarized herself with cashmere, Chanel and less talking. She got her teeth straightened. She lost 15 pounds. She began to get facials and emulate the women she met at parties and dinners out. Within two years Hilary had become an enormous influencer, who shamelessly flaunted her Bentley, her castle-replica country home, her new baby (way to go, Alexander), and the clothing line that Alexander financed for her. Every time he comes home with jewelry, or a new car, or takes her on a shopping spree, she is reminded of the true love she feels for him.
Our favorite @schumacher1889 fabric in a colorway we haven’t used before! We have two left. Grab them quick!!
As Courtney was handed the rule pamphlet, she swore she saw the Da Vinci code. Symbols swirled around, English words became foreign and strange. She somehow now knows how to set up a VCR after reading them, but still does not quite understand how to win atMahjong.
Last week she ordered each of them one of those gadgets that shatters your car window in case of a full water immersion. She also ordered a wind up radio. You know, in case the power grid goes down. She changed the air filters in the house last month, and commented that Olive Garden is a heck of a deal if you get a family sized pan with a five dollar take-home add-on. She’s been cracking open a Bud heavy after yoga class lately, and finally decided to try out a MyPillow.
But here she sits, six years after her appointment with WIDK reporting on milk prices, beauty pageants, the occasional car theft, Alderman election scandals, and downtown green space clean up efforts. This stupid little town doesn’t deserve her. She’s meant for greatness, and she despises their perky greetings on the streets....
