Baby Will Be Better Than Me
Part 1
Part 1
I was 36 when I became a mother. My baby looked just like I did when I was born, except a little bigger and somewhat pinker as my diet was far healthier than that of my own mother's. I didn't drink anything alcoholic during my pregnancy, not even at New Year. I've never smoked ( terribly bad for your skin). I didn't do anything that had the slightest potential to harm my baby. I wanted her to be perfect.
I know you're sitting there saying, "there's no such thing as perfect". Liar! That's only what we tell ugly people who won't shut up about their vile, disgusting malformed bodies.
I'm almost perfect. But almost doesn't count.
I'm beautiful. But flawed. That's why my baby will grow up safe, strong, lean and above all perfect.
To be honest I didn't want a child. I wanted a lover. Someone beautiful, strong and smart. I didn't want someone like me. I wanted me.
I love me more than anyone or anything else. Why shouldn't I? I'm almost perfect. Though in the year 2057 scientists still hadn't discovered how to create adult clones. Only babies.
So I gave up on the idea of having myself as a lover. Instead I decided to dedicate my life to making the perfect version of myself.
I was going to give birth to a better me. Keep her from making all the stupid mistakes I did. And making damn sure she was perfect.
The pregnancy itself wasn't that bad, although a few people did stop talking to me. Said that what I was doing was unnatural, unethical and all such other nonsense. But I knew they were just jealous. Jealous that their children be boring, ugly and ordinary and my bay would be perfect. I didn't miss any of them.
My baby clone, my daughter was born May 7th at 1:52pm. She was pure perfection. A complete innocent. I loved her far more than myself at that moment. She had no dark, dirty secrets, no mean thoughts. Totally oblivious to the world around her. Being surprised and fascinated by everything she saw. I was almost jealous.
I named her Madeline. Madeline Rose Kerrington.
My dear friend Marcus and his husband Liam acted as fathers to Madeline. We all lived quite happily together, in a large manor house, in what little remained of the country side. She was a much loved little girl. Everyone thought we were the perfect family.
We hired a Nanny to prepare all her meals for her because I didn't want to feed her that chemical slop from jars. She'd just grow up craving junk and fatty foods. That would make her ugly.
When she was 5 years old we sent her to ballet lessons (Mondays and Wednesdays), Tae-Kwon-Do (Tuesdays and Thursdays), Drama (Fridays) and violin lessons every Saturday. All these lessons were private except drama which she was taught by an actor friend of mine (he also taught many other wealthy people's children). All this was done to ensure that her body would be perfectly toned and lean and perfect. She would be cultured and not ignorant like most children. She would also be talented enough for extreme media exposure. So the whole world could bask in her beauty and perfection.
Marcus and Liam thought I was pushing her to hard, but with the great deal I was cutting them on their rent at the manor house they kept quiet. Housing prices are astronomical. We look back at the start of the century and wish we'd had it so easy. These days £100,000 wouldn't even buy you a damp, dingy one bedroomed flat on the outskirts of a small village. Their rent was a mere £5,000 a month plus bills. The economy never really did recover after the recession of 2008.
I got the manor house from the bank for a measly £6.2million. This was after some friend of a girlfriend of an illegtimate love child of some footballer had gone bankrupt after too much plastic surgery & rent boys. Very common scenario.
Madeline was home schooled. I didn't want the ugly children ganging up on her & try to make her feel bad about herself for being perfect. It wasn't her fault they were ugly, it was their parents for letting such hideous dna mix. I hired private tutors for her. She was fluent in French, Spanish and Cantonese by the time she was 13.
I didn't let her watch TV. The set we had was only to watch movies on. Even then I closely monitored what she could and couldn't watch. I didn't want her getting fluffy headed ideas about inner beauty. Beautiful people will be forgiven anything.
I was a strict mother. But I only wanted her to be perfect. I wanted people to love her as much as I loved myself. For people to be stunned by her beauty and feel inferior to her perfection.
She was tall and slender at the age of 16. She had large, expressive green eyes and long, soft luxurious strawberry blonde hair that hadn't been tainted by vile chemicals like mine had when I went through a gothic phase when I was young. It was at that age that she was discovered.
To Be Continued...
