Chapter Four: All Girled-Up
I threw my shirt off, watching it fall quietly to the floor. I slid my pants off, throwing them and my shoes, which were still tied, across the room. I shuffled impatiently through my drawers, looking for something girly and to no surprise- I found nothing. My sister takes turns staying at this house and her real dad's house. She's super girly, and we wear about the same size of everything. I quietly, wrapped in a blanket, sneak into her room across the hall and search through her drawers. I found a white lacy bra, my size ironically, a pink tank top with an off-white lace at the top and bottom with buttons in the middle and a bow across the chest, and a pair of pale blue shorts that frayed at the bottom. I fold them over my arm, and slide on the edges of the blanket around me back to my room, dropping the blanket at my door. Closing the door behind me and locking it, I rush into the bathroom, I haven't shaved my legs in almost a week. Quickly I turn the water on and fumble around under the sink until I find a new razor. The water is warm, so I let it do it's thing. The tub fills in no time at all. I turn the water off, strip off my clothes and slip into the inviting bathtub. The hot water feels so nice.
I wash my hair first, until it squeaks and shines, then I shave my legs and underarms until they're as smooth as they'll ever be and wash the rest of my body. I hop out of the tub and the cold air hits my skin, giving me goosepimples. I shiver a little and dry off with my favorite aqua blue towel. I wrap my shoulder-length blonde hair into the towel and reach under the sink to get some lotion when I see an old radio shoved way back. I pull them both out, plug in the radio and tune it to a station that doesn't just sound like "askjdnkjwreiunjkfgnksjdnkgjfg". Then I hear a familar song.. It's the tune of what dad was humming in the car. I turn it up and listen to the lyrics while I try and figure how to put on this push-up bra. It's confusing, believe me. I finally get it on and start pulling on my shorts as quietly as I can so I can hear the music which is extremely catchy. After a few moments I catch on to the chorus and start singing along.
"Billie Jean is not my lover, she's just a girl who says that I am the one, but the kid is not my son." I giggle at the lyrics, what kind of girl is named Billie Jean? Then again, what kind of girl is named Wilmadeene? I apply the baby lotion to my legs, arms, and hands. I'm fully dressed now and I fling the towel off my hair. My bangs were hanging low in my eyes, now. I had to comb them to the side, and since my sister and I sometimes share a bathroom, all her girly supplies were right there just calling my name. Using a pink heart shaped barrette, I clipped my bangs to the side and brushed out the rest of my hair which was starting to curl. I let it be, a few curls can't be so different from how I always wear my hair- straight and up. I left my hair down and my hat sat atop the toilet seat. It looked so lonely. I just frowned at it and turned back to the mirror.
"Sorry little buddy, I have to be girly tonight." I say towards my hat. I think it understands.
I looked at the picture of the girl's eyes on the eyeshadow packaging and mimicked it with a bronze-ish gold color shadow. I, just because of my hatred of huge eyebrows, already tweezed my eyebrows the day before so I don't have to worry about them. I lined the bottom of my eyes with a magenta liner. Billie Jean is over now, and another song starts playing. I don't know it, so I turn the volume down. After a few seconds the song starts to get annoying. To avoid getting it stuck in my head, I turn to another station and I get this stupid look on my face, as I can see in the mirror. I hear a beat that I swear I know, and then I hear that song again. That Billie Jean one. He really must be popular then. Marc was right. I turn it up and sing along again. Getting back to the makeup, I carefully apply some glossy pink lipgloss and look into the mirror, fluffing my curly hair here and there. I look at the girl staring back at me. I don't know who she is. Oh the magic and wonderment of make up. Just as Billie Jean ends, I hurry out of the bathroom and look for my white converse. Yeah. Converse. The only things I currently own. I found them and set them on my bed. I need socks. I put on some white ankle socks- yes I wear white socks, sue me- and my now off-white converse, lacing them up to a few inches above my ankles.
Now I was a girl. Looking at my room, it looked like a tornado had just touched down in here. Shoving a few things under my bed, and putting clothes back in their drawers, I made my bed and straightened out my bookshelves. I swear I could run a fully operating library with all the books I own. My beanbag chair was slouching and flat looking, so I poofed it up, making it look invitingly squishy. I looked around at my room. It was quite.. Uhh, well, different.
Picture this, the curtains, which by the way block little to no sun, are a bright orange. The carpet is blue, and there's a large rug under my bed which is like a big rainbow circle. There's my bookshelves, which are mismatching shades of wood, stacked up along the wall opposite the wall where the window is. My bed is an array of colors and it faces the door, the end of the bed towards the door and the headboard against the wall. Speaking of walls, my walls are two colors. The wall that my bed is on is a bright blue, and the other walls are lime green. I have a few sports posters here and there, and a board of pictures of my family. The wall that my bed is on has "Deenie" written across it in a yellowish orange color, just above my headboard. Yeah. That's my room for ya. Pretty weird, huh? Then I hear a knock on the door downstairs and I whip my head around to look at the clock. It reads 7:58PM. I hear dad talking and I can't really understand him. Marc's voice is talking now, he says something like "I'm Deenie's friend from school." I think. Then dad says something that I can't quite understand. It's either, "Deenie's upstairs in her room." or "Deenie eats hair in her gloom.", though I'm shooting for the first one. I grab a book and sit on the edge of my bed, waiting for Marc to come in.
I can't wait to see the look on his face, it will be totally priceless. If only I had a camera. I hear someone coming up the stairs and try to keep a straight face. The door opens and a shocked Marc stands out in the hallway, staring at me.