“I, Nicola Christine Thomas,” I whisper as tears start to trickle from my eyes. “Take you, Sarah Jennifer Phillips…”

“Beep,” the minister says, derailing my train of thought. “Beep, beep, beep, beep….” I let out a long sigh as the pristine white veil of my wedding dress is replaced by the dark brown veil of my hair, which had flopped down in front of my face whilst I was sleeping.

“Morning,” I whisper to the beautiful girl whose face is the first thing I see every morning when I wake up- and whose own brown hair is, of course, tied back and away from her face.

"How- what- why-" Stephanie stammered as the flame-haired Scottish girl looked at her expectantly.

"I think you might need to sit down," Lauren giggled. "As I said, I've got a car waiting..."

"Umm, okay," Stephanie said, following Lauren to her car in a state of near-shock. "Why- why did you-"

“Stephanie…” Beverly whispered. “Even if I wrote you a prescription, it’d still only be dated from today. I can’t backdate them for the time you were supposed to have been taking hormones.”

“It’s still better than nothing,” Stephanie insisted. “Please, if I have to get down on my knees and beg, I will.”

“Stephanie,” Beverly sighed. “We’ve been over this time and time again, you know that oestrogen isn’t a magical cure to all your problems-“

“Not all of them, but this one, it is-“ Stephanie interrupted.

Jamie-Lee Burke yawned as the alarm on her phone woke her from a dreamless slumber. It had been a long week, but it was now Friday- a chance to relax and let her hair down, which she had every intention of doing that night, surrounded by all her friends.

"Morning, sexy," Jamie whispered in the ear of her still-sleeping fiancé, who mumbled incoherently as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Does it have to be morning?" Stuart moaned, eliciting a small giggle from Jamie.

“Laura…” Mum sighs as I head toward the front door.

“What?” I ask with mock-innocence, before sighing as mum simply stares at me.

“You know what…” Mum says, and I can’t help but roll my eyes as I tug down the hem of my short, straight grey skirt. “ALL the way.”

“Oh- come on,” I moan. “What am I, a nun?”

“No,” mum replies. “You’re a fourteen year old girl.”

I grimace as I feel the pressure increase on my back, and grip the armrests of my chair for support whilst my ‘friends’ all whoop and cheer. I force the corners of my lips to turn upwards into a smile, though that smile soon fades when the roar of the jet engine is drowned out by a loud squeak from my right hand side.

“Oh! My! God!” Georgie squeaks, shredding my nerves more and more with every word she says. “This is so awesome!”

“Try and relax!” Stuart urges me as I stretch my bikini-clad body on the sun lounger. “It’s a nice hot day, you’ve got a VERY nice, VERY hot body…” I snort a laugh as Stuart takes off his loose t-shirt and sits down next to me, rubbing sunscreen into his hands. A genuine smile creeps over my face as I roll onto my front and Stuart unties the back of my bikini top, before smearing the cool liquid into my back.

“Mmm… Soft,” Stuart laughs as I remain silent. “Jamie… Please try and relax. Please? I hate seeing you stressed like this…”

“You know, you look familiar,” the cashier says to me as she rings up my items. “Did you used to be on TV?”

“Umm… You must have me mistaken for someone else,” I reply in my soft, androgynous voice.

“Huh,” the cashier says. “I could’ve sworn I’ve seen your face somewhere before.”

“…Just got one of those faces, I guess!” I giggle as I bag my purchases and head out of the store, sighing as I examine the items in my bag- foundation, mascara, two colours of eye shadow and a tube of dark red lipstick.

“You know,” Paige said as she settled into her plush airline seat, “I kinda wish more people were staring. I mean, come on, just look at us! We’re hot!”

“Smile!” The cameraman urges me. Naturally, I obey, curling my scarlet lips upward while maintaining my trademark model’s pout. “Show us the side stitching.” Again, I obey, lifting my arm above my head to show off the stitching on the side panel of the tight under bust corset I’m wearing.

“Beautiful, Nikki,” the cameraman says. “Okay, just one more to go, then you can finally go home!”

“So… Yeah,” I say as the professional make-up artist applies a layer of adhesive to the tops of my ears. “Why, exactly, again?”

“It’s his favourite show,” Charlotte explains. “He’s done so much for us over the years, it’s only fair we throw him a party for once.”

“And he’s 55 this year, it’s as good a time as any,” Hannah says. “And the show’s celebrating its fiftieth anniversary, it just makes sense, really.”

“Thank you, please fly with us again!” Jessica said, a wide smile on her scarlet lips as she waved the hundred-plus passengers off the aeroplane. Most of the men and women simply ignored the American girl, tired as they were from their flight, but a few acknowledged her with a smile, making Jessica giggle happily. Once all the passengers has disembarked, Jessica returned to the aeroplane, straightening her tight red skirt and elegant pillbox hat before performing her post-flight checks.

“Ugh, I am sweating like a pig,” Abbey complained as she adjusted her own skirt.

“You don’t lie to me,” I sing in my low, sultry voice.

“You don’t lie to me,” Lauren repeats in her own rich singing voice.

“You don’t lie to me,” Kayla sings with a devilish look in her eyes.

“You don’t lie to me…” Adeola sings as we all so a single turn before we all throw our arms in the air.

“No more lies!” The five of us sing in unison, earning a thunderous rounds of applause from our producer Stuart and our choreographer Krystie.

“BRILLIANT,” Krystie giggles. “Choreography was spot on, well done, girls.”

“Everyone’s staring at me again,” Jessica moaned, relaxing back into her chair.

“Staring at US,” Paige said. “And let them stare. Nothing they can do about it, they can hardly throw us off the plane now, can they?”

“God knows there are people who’d want to,” Jessica replied. “America may have legalized gay marriage, but that doesn’t mean everyone in America agrees with the Supreme Court.”

My hands shake with nerves as I- and everyone else in the vast room- watch the action unfolding on the television with baited breath.

“Come on,” I whisper. “I know you can do it…”

“The winner,” the blonde TV presenter announces in her refined northern accent, “of Strictly Come Dancing 2015 is…” A long, agonising pause fills the room as everyone holds their breath, waiting for the inevitable announcement.

“…Hannah and Robin!” The presenter says in a happy voice, prompting a loud, riotous cheer from everyone around me- myself included.

“Happy birthday dear Priya,” everyone sings, at the prompting of the Indian girl’s middle-aged father. “Happy birthday to you!” Priya blushes as she holds her long black hair out of her face, before blowing out the fifteen candles on her rich chocolate cake.

“Fifteen years old,” Mr. Malik says with palpable pride. “I almost can’t believe that my little girl is really growing up.”

“Dad!” Suriya says, making everyone giggle.

“’Little’, not ‘littlest’!” Mr. Malik says, making both Priya and Suriya blush.

Jessica smiled for the passengers as they disembarked the plane, stretching their tired muscles after the long flight from Madrid.

“Thank you for flying with Soixante-Trois Airlines,” Jessica gushed in her practised overly-saccharine ‘stewardess’s voice’. “Enjoy your stay in London!”

“I live here, you dumb valley girl,” one of the passengers snorted as he passed Jessica with a backward glance.

I gently lower myself into one of the sofas in Charlotte’s vast ‘main room’, taking the weight off my aching feet before slipping off my stiletto heels and massaging the soles of my feet.

“Don’t let Hannah ever catch you doing that,” Viks giggles as she sits down next to me. “Unless you plan on going on Strictly yourself next year…”

“If they’ll have me,” I say, making Viks giggle.

“Why are you over here, anyway, and not with Sarah?” Viks asks. “Still falling out over what you were talking about yesterday?”

“Three cheers for the college girls!” Charlotte announces. “Hip hip-“

“Hooray!” The modest number of partygoers cheer.

“Hip hip-“ Charlotte repeats.

“Hooray!” The partygoers again reply.

“Hip hip-“ Charlotte yells at the top of her voice.

“Hooray!” The party goers again cheer as Sarah, Katie and Lauren stand at the front of the room, their cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Extend,” Miss Fullerton advises. “Really stretch your leg out, see how it feels.” I comply, extending my leg to its fullest as my foot stretches downward, supporting my entire weight on the tips of my toes. Nicole, Harriet, Megan, Priya and Suriya all giggle as they watch me switch to my other foot, eventually standing en pointe on both feet in the brand-new shiny satin shoes.

“These still feel a little loose around my heel,” I say, earning groans from my friends- not to mention the gaggle of parents that are accompanying us- but an understanding nod from our ballet teacher.

Jessica breathed a sigh of relief as she peeled her clingy blue skirt from her glistering, nylon-covered legs and carefully placed it in the locker to be washed ahead of the following day’s flight. After stripping off the rest of her uniform and changing back into her tight, chic pencil dress, Jessica elegantly lowered herself onto the bench in front of her locker and took her smartphone from her handbag, switching it on to check her messages.

"Come on, stop fading away," dad chastises me as I rest my head on the back of the sofa. "We haven't seen you in weeks, don't want to watch you sleep all through your visit!"

"Sorry," I mumble, blinking to try to keep my eyes open.

"Honestly, Steve," mum says, handing me a much-appreciated cup of tea. "Why don't you just take a week off and come back here, put your feet up, play on your Xbox and recharge your batteries? You don't know how many people I see everyday who works themselves to the point of exhaustion, some as young as you."

“Mmm,” I moan as the image of Sarah in her wedding dress fades and my brain starts swimming back to reality. I blink my eyes twice, turning my sore head to shield my sensitive eyes from the bright light streaming through the window.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sarah says, giving me a quick kiss on my forehead.

I take a deep sigh as I step out of the small clinic, my face tingling from the lasers that had swept their way over it mere minutes earlier. Despite my face being make-up free- and covered with a very patchy 5 o'clock shadow- no one gives me a second look as I head down to the tube train that ferries me to my next destination. Well, that's not strictly true, people ARE giving me a second look, but not because of the hair on my face, but because of the pink tights covering my legs, visible underneath my extra-short denim skirt.