I TOLD YOU...

I was working on EVERYTHING...

Featurette of the blog post: 50 Extra Pounds of Love

LOL I LOVE THIS ONE :D :D :D

HOMEROOM

It’s the first day of class, sophomore year. I have the same book bag that I had last year; but, unlike the cheerleaders, mine isn’t signed or doodled on by my friends. I crowd with the other students around the bulletin board of homeroom – hoping it looks like I’m popular. That’s when I read it.

ATTENTION!
DO YOU HAVE THE SELF-HATRED OF A WALNUT?
OR OF THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING?

LEARN HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF

MEETINGS IN MRS ALLEGRO’S ROOM
3:30-4:30
MONDAYS AND FRIDAYS


What kind of stupidity is that? “Learn how to love yourself,” yeah, that’s sure possible. What a joke. The bell rings and I take my seat for class.

8th PERIOD - ART

“Welcome back, students,” Mrs. Allegro greets warmly. She’s replied by a groan of kids who look like they haven’t slept in weeks; I’m among them. Mrs. Allegro frowns a little and says, “Good afternoon, class.”
“’Afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” is mumbled, but it sounds like “’Noon Mr. Alleg…” She frowns even more.
“I said, good afternoon, class,” she says loudly, tapping a stick against the desk and scratching her long nails on the chalkboard. We all jump. “Sound alive! Wake up, children.” If there’s anything the students hate more than being in school, it’s being called children – and the teachers know it.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” the class resounds.

Mrs. Allegro teaches art. This year, we have twenty projects, but they all stem from this one topic we’re given at the beginning of the year. Mrs. Allegro read this book about a girl and her art teacher gives them a topic that they use all year. I think it’s cool, but it’s going to get really boring on a few weeks.
Mrs. Allegro has a cool job – all she does is do art, and how cool is that? Pretty cool. She hands around a huge bucket. I don’t blame her – there’s like forty people in our class. It’s my turn. I reach my hand in and pull out an innocent looking paper that Mrs. Allegro says “holds our destiny”. She hits my hand and grabs my paper, putting it back in the bucket. She winks and I wonder what she is up to.
“Now some of you have feelings instead of objects,” she explains.
“Oh, Romeo,” someone groans. It’s Sam – Sam the Blockhead Jock. Also known in cheerleader language as Sam-the-Hottest-Guy-on-the-Football-Team; they don’t call him anything else, unless he’s in their presence – in which case they stutter like bumbling baboons. I don’t get how a sophomore is one of the most popular guys in the school. But, then, there’s the ‘story’. Apparently, two years ago was the last time we had a real football team – a team that won things. Last year’s seniors were the soccer champs.
“What?” Mrs. Allegro says, snapping up his paper. “Oh,” she says. “Sam has love letter everyone.” There’s a collective laugh from the class. Sam rolls his eyes and starts laughing with his stupid jock friends: Randy, Quinton, Derek, Kandy, and Blake. These six jocks are cute, but their brains and good manners have been fried in video games, cheerleaders’ miniskirts, and their own self glory.

“There’s a catch,” Mrs. Allegro announces. “I didn’t make enough ideas for all of you.” The class groans again. This ought to be good. “All of you, get into partners.” Everyone stands up and shuffles. I go to my biggest fan, Jamie.
“You are so weird,” she says with a smile by way of greeting. I grin back. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Okay, class,” Mrs. Allegro says, clapping her hands. “Now turn around.” We all turn around. Jamie’s with Kandy and I’m with… Sam the Blockhead Jock. Oh no. “You’ve just met your new partner.” I groan and raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss Whitehouse?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t partner with him,” I say, pointing my thumb back at Sam the Blockhead Jock.
“And why not?” she says inquisitively.
“Because I speak alien,” I say. The class breaks out laughing.
“That holds consequence?” she asks.
“It means I can’t talk to this idiot,” I reply. Now, Mrs. Allegro laughs and the rest of the class is silent. You could hear a cricket sing or a pin drop if you really wanted to. The cheerleaders are in the front right of the classroom and they’re all gapping – I want to tell them that, yes, I just dissed their beloved obssession.
“Take your seat, Scarlet,” Mrs. Allegro says, chuckling.
“But –,” I say, just for the sake of argument.
“I’m sure you don’t have to talk idiot,” she replies. “Or, if you do, you can just get a translator.”
“Nice,” I say, nodding.
“Thanks,” she says, winking at me. Mrs. Allegro and I have always been on good terms. Meanwhile, Sam the Blockhead Jock is trying to figure out that we insulted him. Jamie, who’s still sitting next to me, looks at me and grins.
“I think he’s burning his hair trying to work out what I said,” I whisper to Jamie. She giggles.
“I bet,” she whispers back.

Mrs. Allegro starts handing out paper and tells us to converge and produce some ‘super’ ideas. This is going to be the worst class of the year.
“You know,” Sam the Blockhead Jock says, moving his desk closer to mine, “I’m not that bad.” I roll my eyes in his face.
“Yeah right,” I say. “And I’m a supermodel.”


CONTEMPLATION


Sam the Blockhead Jock really bothered me. I’m no supermodel, by the way; in fact, quite the opposite. Yeah, that’s right, I’m fat – but who cares? I’m not counting pounds or meals. The teachers claim that it’s my “knowledge of self” that makes me comfortable with my body.
Excuse my language, but I think that’s bull as well.

Yeah, I’m ugly; yeah, I’m not changing myself; yeah, the “teasing” hurts sometimes; no, I can’t do anything about it. Why show weakness? What’s the point? If I let them know it hurts, then I get hurt more – it’s not like sympathy – ugh – exists anymore. Note to self: Never show weakness.

Yes, I live by that – never show weakness… It’s the best saying that ever happened to me. My parents are at a loss. They think I’m so strong even when, sometimes, I just want to fall apart.

The only, only person I’ve ever told about my “problems” is Martyn. He’s a tall, lean emo-ish kid. He hangs in the halls and everybody assumes he’s going to have a breakdown and create a gun-scenario in our school. I don’t think it’s true, but you never know.

THE BIGGEST LIE THEY EVER TELL YOU IN YOUR LIFE:

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.

Punch the person you next catch saying that, will you? They are liars and fakers. And, chances are, they don’t know what you’re talking about. High school is supposed to be a chance to grow and find your niche, but most of the time, you just find people you don’t want to hang with. Genius.


ONE QUESTION: Am i a little too cynical??? I'm pouring all my anger into this one... maybe i need to calm down a tad...

Asiat