Cow Pies

Chapter 1: Morning People

*beep*

*beeeeep*

*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP BEEP BEEP BE-*

"...nghf...shit, shit, shit!"

           I wake up at 7:53 AM on a Tuesday morning, late for school. 8th grade hadn't treated me very well thus far, but the

harder I worked, the sooner I'd get out of there and then it was just a the last stretch of highschool.

            Running a hand through my inky black hair, I groan as I realize I have very little time to straighten my crazy curly bedhead and do my eyeliner. I decidedly chomp my lip, and figure I'm late as it is. Might as well take my sweet time getting ready. No breakfast, though, a moment on the lips and forever on the hips. Fat is noticeable when you have the hips of an 11 year old boy.

           After I plug in my straightener, I walk into the bathroom, and wash my face  and brush my teeth. Then i dig through the drawer for my makeup. I line my water line thickly, before drawing out a long wing and applying black and grey eyeshadow. No subtlety here. I line my lips in a deep, cherry red, and fill them in with a similar red. I've been debating on a cute plum lipstick, although I don't know how that would work with my olive skin tone.

          I hear the beeping of my straightener, and I check for imperfections, and seeing nothing major, I go down the hallway to my room. I love my room, I have a black, cast iron bed frame, a small, black chest of drawers next to my closet, a tall vintage dresser, and a hand me down hope chest from my mom. I have three little cactuses growing in teacups, and I water them before sitting in front of my mirror. I deftly apply some argan oil before I fry my hair into submission, and hair spray all over for good measure. Sliding into a deep black pair of tight skinny jeans, I trip as I attempted to wiggle into my clunky Doc Martens.

           Cliché I know, but the only grandfather who ever paid me any mind (my dad's dad) had found a pair of steel toed Docs in black leather and pretty perfect condition in my size, and I practically lived in those shitkickers. I had a small frame that I strained to keep as thin as possible by eating next to nothing. I tried the puking thing every now and again but it made my teeth ache pretty fucking bad.

            I grab a Lamb of God shirt and a grey sweater, grab my backpack and I'm out the door. I walk a few streets over, and it's a lovely day. Im not a gothy type, but I do love cold, overcast weather. The grey skies and cool air seems to motivate me. I can't operate well in the heat, it makes me feel weak and sweaty I guess.

             I go in the back of my middle school and walk in by the open area. Gonzalez is my first and second period, and he is a relaxed teacher who understands (best as he can) my social issues and I try as best as I can to show my appreciate through hard work. Taking a deep breathe, I brace myself for the waves of pre-adolescent apathy and strange dramatic occurrences I have yet to wrap my mind around.
Here. We. Go.