Observations from the Girl’s Locker Room

-A Cindy Moon Creation-

            The view from the bottom row of lockers isn’t pretty. (It’s my curse for being a tad vertically challenged; I have to get the bottom locker.) I have to stare at girls wearing thongs. Don’t get me wrong, I really don’t want to, but with 25 girls enclosed in such a tight space do you think I have a choice?

            In corner one there’s a bunch I’d like to call the “Y’s. This group consists of Jayme and Kayla, two best friends who fight and make up every other day. It’s really entertaining just to listen to them bicker. Most days it’s over Jayme’s ex-boyfriend and how Kayla can’t talk to him, or it’s over other immaterial topics like limo trouble for winter formal and how their dates screw up their lives by inviting more people with them. Their vocabulary is mostly limited to “F- you F-ing F-ers” (I will tell you right now that I do not condone swearing unless it’s done by myself, so pardon my censuring for the time being.)

            In the other corner there’s a group of two more conformists I have dubbed Missy and Mary. These two really bring out the best of nauseating conversation. On an almost chronic basis I have the misfortune to hear a teenage girl’s ranting about how hot her French teacher is. The mere thought of the age difference there makes me cringe.

            For the sake of saving myself I will not brush over the other cliques that dwell around here, but I assure you upon pain of ignorance I will tell you of them.

            Quote of the Month given by my favorite adversary Becca: “Does anyone want to see my Hello Kitty underwear?” Which is so easily construed as “Stop stealing my health” (For Jessie that is. I’ll tell you more about my friend Jessie later given I don’t hurt myself in these descriptions.) That pretty much sums up how I start the day there. Girls surround me.

            Everyday of the school week I walk into this world where no one should have to step foot in. Truly, I’d hate it even if I were a guy. Nothing is worth this torture. Eye candy is no substitute for the sanity that will be lost. The tampon, body-spray, heartthrob, break-up, cute shirt, toe nail polish, undergarment saturated conversations will get to you!

Someone save me. In a world driven by superficial propaganda that is just promoting group orgies, contraceptives for all, and returning abortion discounts where do people like myself fit in? Evidently I don’t fit in here with the ever so tiring lingo that makes me want to regurgitate my innards.

            This is the story of my life you could say, and I’ll bet you’re wondering who I am. I will remain anonymous for fear of being mauled by the masses once my identity is revealed, but know that I’d probably be your friend.