Paris: A Memoir for Young Women in the Age of Influencers

by Paris Hilton

Two girls were on their hands and knees, scrubbing. “Don’t look at them,” Blanda whispered. “They’re on bans.” All the while, she chattered away, reeling off a long list of bizarre rules. No swearing, singing, humming, or throat clearing. No dancing, skipping, or spinning. No touching, hugging, kissing, or holding hands. No crossing your legs. No shuffling your feet. No whistling. No breathing too loud or smacking your lips while eating. No talking about music, sports, television shows, movies, news events, your parents, your siblings, your friends, your clothes, your room, your school, or anything else about home. No mention of Marilyn Manson. No mention of candy, pizza, hot dogs, cheeseburgers, lasagna, McDonald’s, Burger King, or Wendy’s. No talking about bikes, skateboards, or inline skates. No looking out a window without permission. No opening a door without permission. No going to the bathroom without permission. No asking for permission to go to the bathroom, open a door, or look out a window. No asking for food or water. No eating outside mealtime. No leaving food uneaten on your plate. No asking why or why not. No eye rolling. No sighing. No snoring. No slouching. No shrugging. No fidgeting, nail biting, skin picking, or scratching. No whining. No crying. No yelling.