Saturday, May 14, 2011

Ode to THOSE girls:

NOTE: This blog was written and saved on my computer THURSDAY because I didn't have internet access to post it.  Now that I am on REAL vacation with my family in a lovely beach house with wi-fi, I can post it.   I will also post sick pictures of the house so you can all be jealous.

The Dayton to Daytona trip is about as far away from what I think of as a vacation as one can get.  Things I dislike: a) crowds b) drinking to excess c) uncomfortable sleeping arrangements d) no privacy.   Things which surround me on a daily basis during my Daytona trip: a) crowds b) drinking to excess c) uncomfortable sleeping arrangements d) no privacy.   And what else would you expect when you mix about 1,000 lusty coeds, 5 people to a single hotel room, and free beer everyday from 1-3pm?  Don’t get me wrong, I like a good time as much as the next girl, more even, and ya’ll don’t even wanna see me move it like Bernie, but as the trip winds down, trust me, this daily routine has worn a bit thin.

Speaking of thin.  At first I was completely intimidated at the thought of donning a bikini in front of all of my classmates, fearing my flabby, white frame would be mistaken for a beached Beluga Whale.  I imagined explaining desperately to animal control as they try to hoist me with a forklift that I am actually just a college student who overdoes it on the French fries.  But, upon actually seeing most of the other bikini bodies, I’m definitely doing ok.  I may not be THE hottest, but I’m definitely not the worst.  Everybody has a little flab here, some cellulite there… no big deal. It’s fun and freeing to realize even beautiful girls have problem areas.  And then, then there are those girls… you know the ones I mean. 

Those gorgeous and mysterious creatures who always have smooth hair, clear skin, and flat tummies, which only emphasize how ginormous their boobs are in comparison.  The girls who flirt and giggle and toss their hair without looking the least bit rehearsed, which I know from hours of rehearsing, is difficult to pull off. These girls are the life of the party, and I can’t help but wonder what sort of bizarre genetic jackpot their perfect lucky asses managed to hit.  

Where the flying-fuck do these girls come from?!   I have felt personally tortured by them since fourth grade, the situation worsening in high school as I watched them land every boy I had a crush on, win every homecoming court title I coveted, and get invited to every party I would never be cool enough to attend.   It’s odd that I’ve graduated from college and so little has changed.

 Today, as I was on the pool deck I heard this slender, blonde gazelle of a girl look down at her perfectly flat stomach and wail, “OH MY GOD, I’m SOOOOOOOO fat.”   To which her friend, who consequently looked like a water buffalo chimed in, as if on cue, “No, you’re beautiful!  So SKINNY!”  And she was.   But I call bullshit, making her obligatory chunky friend choke out the truth while obviously realizing how her own body fell short. I’m so tired of those girls, and secretly, more jealous that no matter how hard I try, I will never be one of them.

So here in Daytona, when I was, completely unfairly, disqualified from the Limbo contest for turning my head, and some tanned toothpick went on to win instead, that bit of awkward, dumpy fifteen year-old in me came out and wanted to demand justice.   Those fucking girls…

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