I was quite hesitant since I didn't even know what a monologue was, then by some cosmic magical support Safia came online with all her beauty and glory. Alhamdulillah! She checked to make sure if it was me since I asked her what a monologue was :P Yea, it's me I don't know what it is. Please help the ignorant.
It was quite a surprise because earlier I was telling my baby about some of the jobs offered to me but I wasn't particularly enthralled. He said to take up a job that would give me benefit. I would consider full medical and quarterly bonuses, a big car to drive around in a huge benefit! hehe..
I don't think my passion as a art lover/performer is any secret to my close friends. I love it! Mind you it takes a lot of discipline. Some might see it as a career path for the erratic of behaviour and the borderline psychopath. For me it's an art. And I've always loved art from as far as I could walk. My chubby little legs would be making lunges, immitating a kung fu fighter to wearing my brother's blue towel over my head because it made me feel all princess-ey.
In any case this was my chance at my passion. Something to cross off my to do list before I hit 30. Having a life makes one very attractive. ;)
If you guys were wondering, I've chosen this monologue.
The Dianalogues
By Laurel Haines
The play is a series of monologues, this one is called "Fat Camp." Doreen is fifteen.
DOREEN:
Look, you seem like a nice counselor. At least, you're the only one whose thighs have three dimensions. Can I tell you the truth? I don't want another chance. I want out. That's why I sabotaged the beauty pageant. I want to be expelled. Please. Help me get out of here. I've been coming here for six summers and I can't take another minute of it. This place is crazy. I mean, a beauty pageant for fat girls? Who are they kidding? We all prance around in our sensible one-piece swimsuits while the judges try not to laugh at us. We know. Look, I don't mean to be disrespectful. I tried to follow your program, I really did. I ate the fruit cup and the square of toast you put in front of me every morning. I spent my afternoons doing aerobics to "It's Raining Men" and "Oh, Mickey!" And at night I closed my eyes and tried to visualize myself shrinking. None of it worked. In fact, your program isn't working for anyone. The rest of my bunk survives by smuggling in Snickers bars and throwing them up at night. The PeeWees are popping Ex-Lax. They hide it in their training bras. And what about Judy, who went away for that mysterious week six to a "wedding"? Yeah, right. Try liposuction. Who comes back from a wedding with eggplant-sized bruises on their thighs? She said it was from waterskiiing, but smart people know better. I mean, how can you reward taht? You might as well put a crown on the vacuum!
So can I go now? Please? I mean really, you don't want to keep me around here. I'm dangerous. Who knows what I'll do? Can't you just chalk me up as a hopeless case? A loose cannon? A bad seed? OK. Fine. But you know what? From now on, I'm going to eat whatever the hell I want. Oh, I have ways of getting food. Many, many sources. And by the time this summer is over, I'll be the first Miss Camp Bluebird who will have gained fifty pounds. You can put THAT in your ad in the New York Times!
Courtesy of http://www.notmyshoes.net/monologues/doreen.html
May the All Mighty bless me with the chance to live my dreams! Amin
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