~ You Are What You Eat ~

Be careful of getting too selective, they said. You are what you eat, they said. The original Count Dracula (who wasn't even a real Count, by the way) had made a habit of snacking on pompous, self-aggrandizing aristocrats, and look where that got us, they said. Well, what do they know?

Not many people actively seek out vampirism. Most tend to get attached to things like eating garlic and sunbathing and walking into a church without bursting into flames. But for me, being turned was an opportunity.

See, I'd always been unpopular. My school career was an endless parade of mean girls making my life miserable, just because I wasn't as cool or as pretty as they were. I thought it would end when I graduated, but the working world was no better. Those same mean girls grew up and got jobs in HR or as executives, and used their power to make my adult life suck just as much as my childhood.

They had to pay.

Preying on them was ridiculously easy. And I can't even begin to describe how satisfying it was the first time I cornered one of them, greedily feasting on her terror as she realized this wasn't a joke and there was no escape, just before going for the kill and devouring every precious drop of that sweet, sweet lifeblood. Knowing that she had sustained me after everything she'd put me through almost made it all worthwhile.

I'd never felt as powerful as I did then, and I wanted more. The whole thing was like a drug for me. High on revenge, high on power, high on a sense of invincibility. And nobody would miss a few mean girls. If anything, I was doing the world a favor.

Before long, I'd taken care of all my old bullies and was now on the lookout for worthy candidates. I wasn't quite sure where to start, so I decided to pay my old friend Edna a visit. If anyone could appreciate what I was trying to do, it was her. Both of us had had a rough time in school, and every time I saw her, she looked just as rundown and put-upon as I felt.

I managed to catch her just as she was leaving work. She looked as world-weary as usual (and what on earth was going on with her hair? She looked like Medusa!). Pulling up next to her, I called out, "Get in, loser, we're going shopping."

Edna raised an eyebrow at me, but climbed in the front seat anyway. I have to admit, I wasn't quite sure why I said that. When I'd driven up to meet her, I hadn't had any concrete plans in mind for where we'd go. But I figured shopping was as good an activity as anything. Since I'd been turned, I seemed to have an increased appreciation for it. Just because I'm undead doesn't mean I can't look good, right?

"You look different," Edna said after she'd gotten settled. She was studying me with a small frown on her face.

"Oh, yeah," I said, grinning. "I've been turned. It's pretty cool."

Edna's frown deepened. "No, I don't think that's it."

I rolled my eyes. I hoped she wasn't going to be talking in riddles all night. This was supposed to be fun. I pulled into the mall parking lot, and we hurried inside. There might be fewer hours of daylight in the winter, but it was too cold to linger outside regardless.

Unfortunately, Christmas season also meant that the mall was crammed with people doing their last-minute shopping. Snot-nosed brats ran around all over the place, screaming and carrying on while their tired mothers who'd all seriously let themselves go tried to drag them from store to store. I noticed with satisfaction that some of the brats looked frightened when they caught sight of me. Perks of being a vampire, I thought, baring my teeth at them and laughing when they scampered away in terror.

"Oh, my god, Edna, look at that woman," I whispered, pointing out an obese woman in a bright red sweatshirt. "She looks like a stop sign. Same shape and everything." I started to giggle, but for some reason, Edna didn't join me.

Instead, she raised an eyebrow in clear disapproval and gave her head a slight shake. "That's really mean," she said. "What's gotten into you?"

I could tell by her face that I was about to get an earful on sensitivity and fat-shaming and whatever else — Edna was great at lecturing people. Probably why nobody liked her much in school, I thought. Though this was the first time she'd ever directed one of her lectures at me. What was that about?

"Whatever," I said, waving a hand. "Come on. I need some new shoes."

I caught her glancing pointedly at the shoes I was wearing, but decided to ignore it. It was obvious to me that she wouldn't understand those shoes were hardly new any more — I'd already had them for more than a week. But she never did understand fashion.

I gave her a critical once-over. Since we're already here, I thought, I might as well give her a makeover. "You know, you could use some new shoes yourself," I mused, returning her pointed glance. She was wearing a pair of ratty old sneakers I recognized from high school. But instead of looking ashamed of herself, she continued to frown at me as I led her through the mall.

For some reason, she didn't seem at all willing to shop. Even though it was obvious she needed new shoes, she kept saying her old shoes were "fine." Then, when we went to the clothing stores, she kept complaining that all the clothes I picked out for her "weren't me." It was a total buzzkill.

"Look, Edna," I said at last. "I was trying to be nice about it, but you need a makeover. You could at least be grateful I'm taking the time to help you out."

Edna's eyes flashed. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but for the last time, I'm happy with my own style!"

"You call that a style," I couldn't help sniping.

"And that's another thing!" she raved. "You haven't been all that nice about it. You've gotten mean lately. You're acting like those same nasty girls you used to complain about!"

I scoffed, but something about what she'd said made me pause. Seeing she had my attention, she turned toward a nearby mirror. "I mean, just look at yourself," she said. "You're like a completely different person."

I stared at my reflection as if seeing myself for the first time. I had changed, I supposed. The vampirism seemed to have subtly altered my features, making them more conventionally attractive, and my hair had grown longer, smoother, and lighter. The short pink skirt and sleeveless white top weren't the type of thing I used to wear, either. I did look like a completely different person.

"Oh, no," I moaned as I realized what had happened. "I've become Regina George!"

The End

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