Costa Rica is So Clique-y
Remember that one common area in high school where everyone would hang out in the morning before the first bell?
Remember that feeling you’d get walking through that gauntlet as a Freshman? Feeling the heat of a thousand beady upper-classman eyes boring into you, mercilessly dissecting your merchandise and fashion choices?
No matter who you were or how confident and carefree you felt before you entered that high school, you suddenly became the thin-skinned, self-conscious, shaky Chihuahua of Social Inadequacy.
Your JanSport backpack felt immediately uncool. Your Sketchers, beyond lame. Your cuffed jeans were now a crime against humanity. And your scrunchy…
Dear God, your scrunchy.
That’s what it feels like, every single day I walk to work. Instantly, I’m transported back to that horrible moment where all eyes are on you. Watching you.
I mean, they don’t even try to act polite about it.
I know they’re whispering about how I wore the exact same outfit last week. And the week before that.
And the week before that.
Seriously. What are you looking at, freakshow?
Creepy…but hilarious! Holy cows!
LMAO! Watch your back sister!
Hon, I doubt they’re judging you too hard. They’re probably looking at you and saying, “Wow, she looks so awesome. Makes me feel like such a cow. I’m tired of feeling like a heffer and eating all this rabbit food. I hate having to go along with what my friends are doing…like some kind of stupid herd. My life sucks!!”
Haha, love it Christie! Very a-“moo”-zing. :) And now, having said that corny joke, I should probably just hitch my pants up to my chest and start complaining about how the last good movie was made 40 years ago because I have officially become my grandfather.
Geez, we never would have guessed you were SO screwed up in high school. We had nothing to do with that . . . right? (Mom says the cows are all wearing the same duds every day. Does that make you feel better?)
Hooray! I’ve grown! I stopped myself from making a totally inappropriate, ex-communication type comment! Wait, does that mean I’m not a McDermott anymore?
On a more judgmental note, those cows need to stop letting their calves do their make-up. Sluts.