I like clothes.\u00a0 I like the comfy kind that stretch and dangle.\u00a0 I drop to my knees in baggy pants and over-sized shirts.\u00a0 (my first true love is baggy clothes)<\/p>\n
I don’t like the pants that fit at the ankles.\u00a0 (I never have.)\u00a0 They always made me feel exposed, like not even my ankles were safe.)\u00a0 Neither did I like tight shirts.\u00a0 (and as I grew, I liked for them to cover to my thighs as a form of security.)<\/p>\n
And then I became aware.\u00a0 The guys in school (who never talked to me) began to talk and look (they still never approached me.)\u00a0 I didn’t think anything of it.\u00a0 I only ever talked to my friends (a group of 4, mostly) anyway.<\/p>\n
Then I got to high-school.\u00a0 9th grade took so much adjusting.\u00a0 (I think I’m scarred from it.)\u00a0 Guys noticed too much.\u00a0 They said too many things.\u00a0 Did too many things.\u00a0 I became so paranoid.\u00a0 (This is where I gained my sharp-shooting eyes.)\u00a0 I never stopped walking.\u00a0 (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)<\/p>\n
I joined the cross-country team that year.\u00a0 And choir, track, and soccer.\u00a0 (I was already in band.)\u00a0 Walking was HELL.\u00a0 It was actual, living, breathing hell.\u00a0 I couldn’t get from Point A to Point B without some boy spitting what he thought was game.\u00a0 (I just wonder how any girl ever fell for them)<\/p>\n
Soon I met a guy who did know how to charm, and yada yada yada, we got together.\u00a0 Nothing changed.\u00a0 One group of guys even went as far as to threaten me and my relationship.\u00a0 (I didn’t tell my boyfriend because I couldn’t have him going to jail.\u00a0 He was 18 and they would’ve sent him)<\/p>\n
Track was always bad with the football boys there.\u00a0 (Track boys were at least a little more respectful.)\u00a0 Long story short, I got told to bend over.\u00a0 (I bought more baggy pants for the next week, which are harder to run in.)\u00a0 I loved to run, but it became miserably angry. (Yes, I became the angry _____girl. (no one knew what ethnicity I was.))<\/p>\n
Soccer wasn’t too bad.\u00a0 I was pretty comfortable besides the persistent flirting and commenting from Megan’s boyfriend.\u00a0 (He was no good and now has another baby on the way.)<\/p>\n
Cross-country was (for the most part) a safe place.\u00a0 One guy got mighty close to me smacking the testosterone off of him.)<\/p>\n
Oh, and those tight pants with the tight ankles, those became my regular my tenth grade year.\u00a0 I succumbed to the fact that what had happened the previous year was normal.\u00a0 Although, i will say that my tenth grade year was a lot better.\u00a0 I had earned quite the reputation the previous year despite what I told you above.\u00a0 Everyone knew not to mess with me.\u00a0 (Most everyone)\u00a0 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.\u00a0 \u00a0It was all just a front though, it think.\u00a0 (i’m truly not sure.\u00a0 I think this attitude melded with my previous identity)\u00a0 I only became tough because I had to.<\/p>\n
Now, I’m here and I feel safe.\u00a0 I show off.\u00a0 (this is too safe.)\u00a0 The other day, I was reminded of the real world.\u00a0 I was reminded that MSA can only guarantee that safety until graduation.\u00a0 (soon, this bubble should burst.)\u00a0 This scares me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I like clothes.\u00a0 I like the comfy kind that stretch and dangle.\u00a0 I drop to my knees in baggy pants and over-sized shirts.\u00a0 (my first true love is baggy clothes) I don’t like the pants that fit at the ankles.\u00a0 (I never have.)\u00a0 They always made me feel exposed, like not even my ankles were … Continue reading “Hide the Girl. (Pt. 2)”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":23,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3269"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/23"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3269"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3269\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3279,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3269\/revisions\/3279"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3269"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3269"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3269"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}