Transformation of a Woman's Confidence in Close-up

I didn't wake up like this; it took three alarms and one mental breakdown, but here I am, fabulous. I don't dress up for you, darling. I dress up for the mirror. I walk like I own the runway... even if it's just to the fridge. My eyebrows have more attitude than most people I know, and yes, I'm not short, I'm concentrated awesomeness. I smile, not because I understand what's happening, but because confusion is part of the aesthetic. Beauty sleep? More like nap hard, slay harder. I'm not late; you're just early and unstylish. And no, I don't chase; I attract (unless it's bubble tea, then I run). Filter? Please. I am the filter. If confidence had a face, it would probably look a lot like mine. I may be cute, but I bite. My heels are higher than your standards, and my sass level is certified expert. Single? Of course. Fixable? Not your job. I don't need your opinion; I have my own fan club. I'm on a seafood diet: I see food, I eat it. And lets be honest, if I were you, I'd totally fall for me too.