The girl I met today:
Why am I here? Because I share with all of you, presumably, a love for people who enjoy being themselves and occasionally indulge in the right to be different.
In turn, because I love writing things and telling stories, I'm always watching people. However, I found something new about a person today that truly intrigued me, and I shall do my best to relate the experience.
Every week, Wednesday and Friday I spend two hours sitting in the back of Spanish 220. Two rows up, invariable is a girl who we'll call Kate. Kate attends class every time, not yet has she missed; each day showing up about three minutes late before finding the same seat every time. The most you'd know of Kate is her face and the the scarred look she carries in her eye.
Each time I see her, she is clad in a loose fitting sweatshirt, the hood hiding her dried out but gorgeous hair. Her pants always flow straight from her gentle, unseen hips straight to her toes, upon which checker pattern Vans reside. There are two people in the classroom she speaks to, the teacher, and the girl next to her, whom we will refer to as Jen. Kate and Jen are physical opposites.
Where Kate does not exist underneath her clothes, Jen explodes. As Kate cowers under the sight of those in the room, Jen glows, absorbing the bored stares laid upon her with an easy grace of one who knows the constant taunt of inconsiderate malcontents. For four weeks now, I have not seen Kate consume anything more than a few sips of water, while her admittedly thin hair and occasionally red complexion has lead me to believe that Kate and her body don't get along well, Kate and food even worse.
Today I saw something different. Walking in the room, Kate wore soccer warm-up pants, a tank top and a black sports bra, showing finally the shape of her gorgeous body. Well toned flat abs, small breasts, and shoulders that could make a body builder cry. As she lifted up her back pack to clear over the head of the annoying girl on the outskirts of the aisle, who will remain nameless, her bicep muscles creased her white skin. Her body exuded the perfect attributes of a sweet feminine strength, so thin and lithe, yet such muscular power waited right beneath the surface. She was beautiful.
Sadly, she remained on the edge of tears for a large portion of class, reduced almost to tears if she caught someone looking at her. All I want is to take her picture, to admire, and to recreate her. Sadly, that will probably never happen, and in the next ten weeks, I shall see her no more than 20 times and then never again.
Why am I here? Because I share with all of you, presumably, a love for people who enjoy being themselves and occasionally indulge in the right to be different.
In turn, because I love writing things and telling stories, I'm always watching people. However, I found something new about a person today that truly intrigued me, and I shall do my best to relate the experience.
Every week, Wednesday and Friday I spend two hours sitting in the back of Spanish 220. Two rows up, invariable is a girl who we'll call Kate. Kate attends class every time, not yet has she missed; each day showing up about three minutes late before finding the same seat every time. The most you'd know of Kate is her face and the the scarred look she carries in her eye.
Each time I see her, she is clad in a loose fitting sweatshirt, the hood hiding her dried out but gorgeous hair. Her pants always flow straight from her gentle, unseen hips straight to her toes, upon which checker pattern Vans reside. There are two people in the classroom she speaks to, the teacher, and the girl next to her, whom we will refer to as Jen. Kate and Jen are physical opposites.
Where Kate does not exist underneath her clothes, Jen explodes. As Kate cowers under the sight of those in the room, Jen glows, absorbing the bored stares laid upon her with an easy grace of one who knows the constant taunt of inconsiderate malcontents. For four weeks now, I have not seen Kate consume anything more than a few sips of water, while her admittedly thin hair and occasionally red complexion has lead me to believe that Kate and her body don't get along well, Kate and food even worse.
Today I saw something different. Walking in the room, Kate wore soccer warm-up pants, a tank top and a black sports bra, showing finally the shape of her gorgeous body. Well toned flat abs, small breasts, and shoulders that could make a body builder cry. As she lifted up her back pack to clear over the head of the annoying girl on the outskirts of the aisle, who will remain nameless, her bicep muscles creased her white skin. Her body exuded the perfect attributes of a sweet feminine strength, so thin and lithe, yet such muscular power waited right beneath the surface. She was beautiful.
Sadly, she remained on the edge of tears for a large portion of class, reduced almost to tears if she caught someone looking at her. All I want is to take her picture, to admire, and to recreate her. Sadly, that will probably never happen, and in the next ten weeks, I shall see her no more than 20 times and then never again.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
mousegirl:
Poor Kate. Maybe you could offer her a muffin some time?
Maybe you could offer her a muffin some time?
shadowcast:
your profile pic rules !!!!!!!!!!! hahahah