The Kingdom of Queendom

Home of the Oompa Loompa.

Home of the Chronic Texter. 

Home of the Skinny Pretty Girl you hated in high school. 

The Kingdom of Queend0m.

I'm not going back to my high school, but I'm still coming down with a case of High School Reunion Syndrome. 

HIGH SCHOOL REUNION SYNDROME: When you have the psychological need to show  up them bitches from your past . 

I never fit in with girls in my childhood. I have known them since I was a little kid.  They were skinny, and I was average. That was strike one for me. Each and every time we got together, One of them just got their license and would drive off somewhere.

 Without the the poor commoner.  

I could never be as tan, or as skinny, or just as pretty as the royal subjects. They left me out too many years and I never understood why I was excluded.

 Now I know: I didn't wear the uniform. 

Now I want to show them, "I've done this awesome stuff with my life, and have hope for my future!"I wasn't as tan, or as skinny or as pretty as them. I wish  I could kick their ass in the being tan, but I won't because skin cancer isn't in my plan.  Some of the queens have been graced by the disease, but I suppose they aren't orange enough. 

Yet, I still want to prove to them, that I am worthy of the royal court.  What is wrong with me? 

You pretend to be all charismatic, smart and fun, like you're going somewhere in life  and you'll be the queen of your own damn castle. 

I've been working out intensively to get in shape to compare my body with theirs.  I've been coming up with a "list" of things to say about my school, my accomplsihments, my grades, my plans, my major and my boyfriend. 

I've been trying to compete with them for years, maybe this time, I'll finally be knighted. 

Since I've been in college, I've learned people like you for you. Not for how nice your stuff is.  In the castle, texting in a conversation is the norm.  I kind of forgot it comes down to who has the nicest car, or who has the most cold hard cash. 

It's like going back to high school, because you're comparing yourself to the girls who can eat ten pounds of chicken wings and pizza, and not gain a pound. God, I hate them. 

I mean, I suppose I know why I was excluded, I was a little weird, and a little dorky, but who wasn't? I wasn't talking about the same boys they were. I wasn't into talking about the football game last week between Pennsbury and Council Rock South.  They were only interested in the lives that they lived. No interest to what they did not know.  They were closed minded. 

Not mine and my sister's, because we could never know the joys of being the same as them.  I could never relate, because we went to a different school, always. We lived in two different worlds. But that's not really true.  The other girls went to a different school too, so why were they so fucking special? 

So, I got hips and boobs, while most of them stayed thin and ass-less. Still an outcast, I got curvy, they just got taller. Skinny bitches. 

They would bring a different prince to all the parties, and of course they were preppy and gorgeous. These boys had to be gay or metrosexual, because they put more effort into their appearence than the stick girls. But they were gorgeous. 

I guess because they were part of that "preppy" circle, and I was part of that  "girl who won't get laid" circle because I didn't give it up when I was 15.  

The preppy thing wasn't my deal. I really liked listening to stories, because the inside was always nicer to me than the outside. 

I was the artsy type, and everyone else was sports-y, I guess. I was always a commoner,  but in college, that has worked in my favor with people of my kind. We may never know the joys of being royal, but if I've lasted this long, why should I start now?