Hide the Girl. (Pt. 2)

I like clothes.  I like the comfy kind that stretch and dangle.  I drop to my knees in baggy pants and over-sized shirts.  (my first true love is baggy clothes)

I don’t like the pants that fit at the ankles.  (I never have.)  They always made me feel exposed, like not even my ankles were safe.)  Neither did I like tight shirts.  (and as I grew, I liked for them to cover to my thighs as a form of security.)

And then I became aware.  The guys in school (who never talked to me) began to talk and look (they still never approached me.)  I didn’t think anything of it.  I only ever talked to my friends (a group of 4, mostly) anyway.

Then I got to high-school.  9th grade took so much adjusting.  (I think I’m scarred from it.)  Guys noticed too much.  They said too many things.  Did too many things.  I became so paranoid.  (This is where I gained my sharp-shooting eyes.)  I never stopped walking.  (Daily procedure: keep your head down; smile if something is said, but keep walking, fast; make it to class but stay seated as much as possible)

I joined the cross-country team that year.  And choir, track, and soccer.  (I was already in band.)  Walking was HELL.  It was actual, living, breathing hell.  I couldn’t get from Point A to Point B without some boy spitting what he thought was game.  (I just wonder how any girl ever fell for them)

Soon I met a guy who did know how to charm, and yada yada yada, we got together.  Nothing changed.  One group of guys even went as far as to threaten me and my relationship.  (I didn’t tell my boyfriend because I couldn’t have him going to jail.  He was 18 and they would’ve sent him)

Track was always bad with the football boys there.  (Track boys were at least a little more respectful.)  Long story short, I got told to bend over.  (I bought more baggy pants for the next week, which are harder to run in.)  I loved to run, but it became miserably angry. (Yes, I became the angry _____girl. (no one knew what ethnicity I was.))

Soccer wasn’t too bad.  I was pretty comfortable besides the persistent flirting and commenting from Megan’s boyfriend.  (He was no good and now has another baby on the way.)

Cross-country was (for the most part) a safe place.  One guy got mighty close to me smacking the testosterone off of him.)

Oh, and those tight pants with the tight ankles, those became my regular my tenth grade year.  I succumbed to the fact that what had happened the previous year was normal.  Although, i will say that my tenth grade year was a lot better.  I had earned quite the reputation the previous year despite what I told you above.  Everyone knew not to mess with me.  (Most everyone)  That’s when I started wearing tight things and showing off more (still not too much, I wasn’t about that.) I was still the angry ___ girl.   It was all just a front though, it think.  (i’m truly not sure.  I think this attitude melded with my previous identity)  I only became tough because I had to.

Now, I’m here and I feel safe.  I show off.  (this is too safe.)  The other day, I was reminded of the real world.  I was reminded that MSA can only guarantee that safety until graduation.  (soon, this bubble should burst.)  This scares me.

Author: Sidney Medina

I dedicate these works to the steady flow of strangers, acquaintances, and teachers who constantly shaped me, vanishing before I thanked them. They pulled me from a hole I didn't know I was in.

One thought on “Hide the Girl. (Pt. 2)”

  1. This was so open and beautiful. It flowed from line to line, and even though it broke between the parentheses, it felt like there were two separate dialogues combining and intertwining and that was super cool to hear in my head. Thank you for sharing this. I didn’t read part one, but I will now that I’ve read this one:)

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