Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Langhorne, Karyn (general ebook reader .txt) 📕

stage into the cool of the

wings.

“I’ve got to go put on my bathing suit,” she told

them simply, and then swung her rounding hips at

them as she returned to the dressing room to

change.

And when America didn’t pick her as their num-

ber one, Audra couldn’t help feeling light as a

feather. Tonight she was an absolute loser . . . but the

happiest one on Earth.

“You did it, girl! You really did it!” Edith swung

herself around her daughter’s neck, hugging and

jumping. “I can’t believe you went out there and—”

“I’m proud of you, Audie,” Laine rubbed her

shoulders. “And I’m glad you’re my cousin. Girl,

that took a lot of nerve.”

Art picked her up and swung her around and

Penny surprised her with a bouquet of flowers. “I

think what you did was great,” she murmured shyly.

“Really great.”

“Me, too,” Kiana said. “But is your skin going to

stay that way?”

Audra shrugged. “We’ll just have to see.”

“Now what?” Art asked.

“Let’s go home—”

“Not so fast!” Shamiyah hustled up to her, a big

smile pasted across her face. “Everyone’s talking

about your look!” She gestured to the cell phone. “I

just got off the phone with the publicity people.

Every show in the country wants an interview with

you.”

“Sorry Shamiyah,” Audra shook her head. “I’m

through.”

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Karyn Langhorne

Shamiyah stared at her like she’d just said she in-

tended to commit suicide.

“What do you mean, you’re through?” she de-

manded. “You can’t be through! How many times

do we have to go over this. We own you until—”

“Until the end of ‘the Big Reveal, if not selected as

winner,’ ” Audra told her, quoting the language ex-

actly. “I wasn’t selected . . . and I’m through.” Au-

dra shrugged. “You can check with your lawyers if

you want. I checked with mine.”

The young producer blinked at her. An expression

like anger crossed her face, then disappeared. “Come

on, Audra,” she said, starting out on a new tact. “This

would mean a lot to me . . . to my career. You can’t

just—”

“Yes, Shamiyah. Yes, I can. Consider it no more

than what you deserve.” She nodded to her family.

“Let’s go.”

“But what am I supposed to do about all these re-

quests for interviews?”

There was a charged moment, as everyone waited

for Audra’s response. Audra put her hands on her

hips, feeling every moment a grand diva—right down

to her evening gown. She leaned close to Shamiyah, a

smile quirking her lips.

“Frankly my dear, Shamiyah, I don’t give a damn,”

she muttered, and swept out of the studio.

There was a car waiting near the studio, and a sol-

dier in desert khakis stood beside it, peering toward

the building like she was lost.

Kiana knew her first.

“Mommy!” she cried, breaking free of Audra’s

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

371

hand and beginning to run. “Mommy! Mommy,

you’re home!”

Audra looked up just as Petra swept her little girl

into her arms. A second later, her husband Michael

emerged from the car and took his turn, swinging

their little daughter into his arms.

Petra swept off her cap. She’d cut her hair short

again, so that it was almost as short as Audra’s, and

her skin was tanned to brown from the desert sun.

“Ma . . . Audra,” she said in a choked voice. “I’m

home.”

Audra didn’t remember who ran to whom, she

just remembered the three of them hugging and

kissing and jumping, and talking all at once.

“You look beautiful,” Petra whispered in her ear.

“Just beautiful.”

“You, too,” Audra replied.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Edith muttered.

And Audra was quick to agree. She tossed back

her head and laughed like a diva, arm in arm with

the people who loved her, making the exit of a life-

time into the California sunset.

Acknowledgments

Idon’t know about you, but I’ve always found

something to hate about the way I look: I’m too

fat, my skin looks funny, and I’m having a bad hair

day that’s lasted for twenty years. My hips are too

big, my boobs are too small, my waist is too short.

My eyes are too close together and my nose is too

flat; I have this funny little ridge around my lips and

absolutely no eyebrows whatsoever. Since I was

about 14 years old, I’ve always found something to

hate.

Then, last year, I came across a stack of photos

taken when I was in college twenty years ago. I was

so cute! True, at the time those photos were taken, I

thought my hips were too big and my boobs were

too small, and my eyes were too close together, etc.

But looking at that girl now, twenty years and forty

pounds later, I think she’s adorable. Only I wish

she’d known it.

The funny thing is, twenty years older and forty

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Karyn Langhorne

pounds heavier, I’m more content with myself now

than I was at 21. And that’s what Diary of an Ugly

Duckling is all about: learning to love yourself, not

for what you are on the outside, but who you are on

the inside.

I get weird ideas like Diary of an Ugly Duckling all

the time . . . but they don’t become books without the

help and guidance of many, many people. I want to

mention a few now.

First, let me thank Paula Langguth Ryan and her

Art of Abundance coaching. Paula is a “life coach”

with whom I’ve worked on and off for the past three

years. She is super at helping you “uncover” your

true self and she has given me some great “life exer-

cises” over the years. I encourage everyone to visit

her Web site at www.artofabundance.com. She’s the

best.

I’d also like to thank my mother, Evelyn S. Lang-

horne. She is nothing like the mother in this story!

She’s a lovely woman—inside and out—and one of

my best friends and role models. Thanks, Mom!

As far as researching and developing this story, I

have to thank Dr. Jan R. Adams. Other than appear-

ing on several television shows dealing with plastic

surgery, he wrote a book I found extremely helpful,

Everything Women of Color Should Know About Cos-

metic Surgery. Any sister thinking about having a

“lift” should find a copy.

Without Esi Sogah and Selina McLemore, my edi-

tors, the story you’re about to read would have

made far less sense. I’m forever grateful to both of

these talented ladies for their guidance—and to my

thoughtful and dedicated