A photog who takes pictures of celebrity children, is turned into Selena Gomez's baby.
|They first talked about me on the radio. “The female photographer, hunting down pictures of their first born child”. Selena called me “the worst kind” of paparazzi, because as a woman, I should have had some respect for her only daughters personal space. Justin spoke about me too, but in a much broader category. He was fighting for anti paparazzi laws relating to children in LA, but we all knew, those laws were impossible to put into place.
Many celebrity parents had tried, and many more had failed. Pictures of Justin and Selena's one year old daughter were running at approximetly nine-hundred-thousand dollars per exclusive image, so there was no way that us photog's were going to back away willingly. We printed pictures of the child waddling, crying, and burrying her face into Selena's shoulder, with no consideration for the fact that the little child was anxious and scared.
We never cared, and I never cared, about what the world looked like at that child's height. Not until I woke up one morning in a very familiar hotel room, but a very unfamiliar cot. The door opened and I tried to sit up, ready to run if I had to. When Selena's face came smiling over me, “Morning baby” she said. With a feeling of being extra padded, I was lifted onto her hip. I kicked and cried but she only kissed me strolling me into the other room. Stopping to pick up some toys, I was tilted to the ground with her. And that's when I saw my reflection in a wall mirror. I was less woman, and entirely baby.
The first thing I want to know is does Selena know? Has she somehow done this to me as an act of revenge for her real daughter. In the mirror, I don't look like Selena's child at all. I look like me, just me at age one. But Selena seems convinced that i'm hers.
“Did you have a good sleep? Hmm? You still sleep. Aw...”
She walks me into the hotel bathroom with long and gliding steps, while I wiggle helplessly on her hip. I kick and I fight, but she barely notices. She's probably use to a squirming baby. She thinks little of it.
Then she sits down and sets me down on a plush laid out towel. The touch is unbearable to me, as I already feel heavily padded . I'm wearing a diaper, a diaper cover, and a fluffy sleep jumpsuit. I don't want to lay down on something else that's plush and soft, when I don't have any ability to stand up.
She coos over me as the water rises, ticking my belly when I cry. I'm starting to get really worried now, because if she does know who I am, then I don't want to be put in a bath of warm water when I have no ability to swim. I doubt that she'll drown me, but I also doubt that any of this is even happening.
When she starts to undress me I cry bloody murder. I try to plead with her but I can't talk. My words have been taken from me.
“Oh no, no, no,” she says gently, resting my head up on her shoulder. “Big girls don't cry. Hmm... isn't that what you said? Wait no... that was another article. I think you called crying celebrity babies brats in that one,”
My spine turns cold as she lifts me over the warm water. She knows exactly who I am. And she, has done this to me. When I start to cry louder, all she does is pout. She holds me out in front of her, making fun of my predicament.
Imeadietly I want to bargain with her. Words have always been my way out of everything, but Selena has taken them from me.
“Funny thing about words...” she says, as if she can read my mind. “Babies for example, don't have any. They have to rely on other people to speak for them. Like when you call my child a brat. Or when you speculate on her so called 'traumatized life'. Your putting words in her mouth. Just like now, i'm going to put words in yours...”
Her lips look particularly threatening as she lowers me into the water and straps me into a bath seat.
So she's not going to drown me, at least I don't think so. For the moment she seems content with just smiling at me.
“Say... but I want to stay this way forever”
No, is my first thought. But the words start to pull through. “I – I...”
“Want to” she encourages me.
“Wan – want to”
“Stay this way,”
“Mhmm. Speak baby”
“Oh sweetie, there will be plenty of time for begging. But please isn't going to help you much. Say stay this way, forever”
I bite into my gums. She controls my words but she can't make me say them. And how dare she! How dare she do this to me! I was just doing my job! She can't... she can't turn me into a type of example!
Pouting at me again, she lifts me from the water. I think i've won but i'm surely mistaken. Next, i'm wrapped up in the same plush towel and taken back into the bedroom. When she places me down on the bed I try to roll so I can sit up. But it's hopeless, and so am I. All I can do is wiggle.