It really sucks being a mannequin.

Help.

Please. Won't somebody help me?

I'm completely immobile and one of my nippleless breasts is exposed. Some brat thought it would be funny to readjust my shirt. Now it barely covers an arm and one breast. Now young boys are snickering at me. And now the other mannequins are laughing on the inside at my misfortune.

It was bad enough being in this outfit- a neon yellow, cable-knit sweater with green wool pants and an fat-beaded, red necklace. I look like an Easter egg. But now I'm a half-exposed Easter egg. At least I'm not smiling or headless like those unfortunate mannequins at Express.

Last week, for some weird reason, I was wearing eight scarves. Eight! How can you justify wearing eight scarves?

You can't. At least they were all pretty. I thought the scarf tied around my thigh was overkill, though. You know, after the six other extra scarves.

God. These teeny boppers who work here and dress us are total freaks. This one girl who (from what I can tell) gets paid to talk loudly about the other employees and smack gum knocked me over the other day. She was putting a jacket on me (without a shirt, mind you) and she got frustrated because my arms don't bend. So she kicked my stand and I toppled into a table.

My head came off. And this little tramp just thew my jacket to the ground and runs off to be emo. Meanwhile, some poor little toddler is screaming because my head is laying at her feet. Not the best way to learn about mortality. At least my headless body landed face down. A small blessing in a pot of crap.

I do enjoy it, though, when the kids jump into my window and pose. It's really quite flattering, actually. They will vogue and freeze and purse their lips. They'll go for as long as they can without breathing or blinking. It usually only takes about thirty seconds before someone starts giggling. They'll mime conversations with all of us mannequins. It's really cool.

Then emo gum smacker will chase them off. And it's back to fashionable loneliness. It's a good thing I'm not a smiling mannequin cause faking my emotions would just add insult to injury.

I really wish someone would come over here and cover me back up. It's trashy to have half-naked mannequins. It kind of defeats the purpose of mannequins in the first place. Well, unless you're talking about lingerie mannequins. But that's the most thankless job ever. Not only are you always in your skivvies, but freaks have dirty fantasies about you. Eww.

And speaking of dirty fantasies ... Some creepy kid is staring at me and just licking a sucker. I really hate this. He's all sticky with sugar and my breast is STILL EXPOSED.

Oh well. At least it's not the Christmas season anymore. If I never see a polkadotted Santa hat again, it'll be far too soon.