Pom-poms and poofy hair
I never thought this would happen; never imagined even for an iota of a second that someone would see through me. How could they? I wasn't even aware of anything lingering below the surface. I guess sometimes that even I can be wrong, it just took someone with some balls to pull it out and force me to recognize it.
I am the happy, sparkly cheerleader that everyone claims to love (but really hates). Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I come to school every day and bounce my head back and forth, toss my golden locks and smile my huge, perfectly straight and white toothed "go team go" smile. I am a player and all the world is my stage... but since this town is encompassed by a tiny snow globe, this high school, the gym floor, and the football field is my stage. Some people may call that pathetic but their expectations are all I know and all they know are the football stats from last year and how awesome the new quarterback is (like totally freak me out I mean alright!) and the girls know that he doesn't look bad in his blue and gold uniform. So what's wrong with that? Life has always been about living up to the expectations of others and if that means cheerleaders falling all over the quarterback then I won't complain too loudly.
But.. let me get back on track.. I know something you don't know and I'm not going to tell you! Actually, yes, I am going to tell you because small town girls can't keep secrets; I just like to sing prepubescent songs and giggle every time I dress myself in this too tight shirt and too short skirt and bend my body in ways that make my knees scream at me and say "This is really unnatural and totally unnecessary".. it helps me get into the part. Unbeknownst to well, almost everyone but me and now you, I am not going to marry my high school sweetheart. I am not going to settle down right away and make ten babies. And, are you ready for the big shocker? I don't even like American Eagle! How do you like those apples? That's right! I have plans.. or at least I have plans to make some. I am going to college and I am going to get a degree (in what I have no clue), I will get a job that is not coaching the cheerleading squad I am currently captain of; and maybe, just maybe, if I'm feeling froggy I might find a nice man and settle down. With all of the femi-nazis and liberals out there you would think I grew up under a rock for not already knowing that that I was not born into this world to be Mrs. Cleaver (which is good in my case because I can't even boil water, let alone bake cookies). But I can't tell Mom that, she almost had a heart attack when I stopped playing with my easy-bake oven (and I was twelve)!
I haven't always felt this way, to be quite honest it wasn't even until this year that these dreams of independence began forming in my sleepy little brain. It wasn't until he showed up and saw straight through my facade that I realized I would be graduating this year and that life does move on beyond the awesome age of 18. I felt naive and naked when I realized that all of the things that I thought I knew about myself were all lies. Now I question everything and see that my Barbie doll friends are all plastic and accessories; put the heat on and they melt faster than a Hershey's bar in your little brother's back pocket.
Even though I want to hate him for the things he's shown me... he is a doll! "Mr. Sexy Pants" is what I call him, the super sexy baseball player who debates with our American History teacher and is one of the guitar guys in some punk band. He is the stuff naughty dreams are made of. It was almost homecoming and all of us girls were dressed up as Dalmations and our coach as Cruella DeVille, we were so adorable (or at least I was)! Well, anyway, Mr. Sexy Pants called us all cows and mooed at us, can you believe him? So, I decided to confront the mooing punk and put an end to his obnoxious and incredibly loud rendition of Old MacDonald and just when I was sharpening my claws and preparing to strike, he cut me off and started in on me with all of his psycho-babble analysis.. like I understand any of that Freudian crap. At first I was irate, how dare he call into question the authority of the cheerleading captain? How dare he talk back to the empress of SHS? Oh yes girl, he so went there!
But.. you know something? I learned a lot. Before I could never imagine my life without pom-poms and perfectly sculpted hair and now I'm sort of excited. Not that I'm going to break into song and dance or anything. I keep thinking that I should be more afraid of graduation and all that will inevitably come with it, but it's not close enough for the reality of it to come crashing in on me yet so I suppose that I will just have to save that for another day. Right now, I am more worried about the immediate consequences of thinking for myself.