Every Girl Deserves a Tiara

Getting ready is the best part of her night, as she feels relaxed, and in the art of donning clothes and make-up she can feel less taxed.

Looks in the mirror. Hideous. A beast that she wishes to transform into a beauty, and that's the art right there - how to be us.

She's shaved her lovely long legs and puts on her stockings, but not before her foundation's in place. A tear escapes her eye and rolls down her dark face.

Instantly she feels more herself, less the pale anaemic creature and more the alluring Princess she wishes to be. Puts on her make-up music and feels inspired to be uninhibited and free.

That shadow, those eyes, the unwanted lines and hair it's all got to go. This preparatory work is somewhat slow. Cosmetic art on such a skin tone, such a disturbing canvas - well, that's a challenge you know.

Broad strokes of her brush after she applies her base layer. Sweeps of colour right up to the hair, and daring boldness, it's fun to create something out of the nothing she is there.

Can't smudge her artwork but she's pleased. Her crown in her hand it's tussled and squeezed. Puts it on. Every princess deserves a tiara. At last she's a goddess. Puts on a sexy figure hugging dress and adjusts her cleavage.

Her beautiful hair. The whole look created around that. Each curl and luscious lock cascades, and falls down her back. Like a flock of ravens falling from the sky, lifelessly black.

What's staring her back is hours of preparation. The guys won't really give that any thought, she's just the end creation. What she made. What she turned herself into.

At last she smiles. T-girl, you ARE beautiful, don't let them tell you otherwise.