Prom All Over

Yes, dear readers, you read the title correctly; Zoe, the college senior is blogging about prom. Why, you ask, a look of confusion on your face. Well, you see, Mock Trial is having prom this year, instead of our banquet, which is the usual plan at the end of the season. We normally all get together and go to a restaurant where we eat and give out awards, then we just go our separate ways. Not this year. This year we are going to all wear formal attire and have a prom, which is an idea spawning from our secretary Rache, which means it’s time to buckle down and see if I can’t fit Zoe, the consummate tomboy, back into a dress that is icy blue and puffy. Yes, I wore  puffy ball gown to prom my senior year. It was affectionately named the Cinderella dress, and it was huge, the skirt takes up most of my bed. It was so big that we had to take my date’s Explorer instead of the awesome Crossfire to prom because I wouldn’t fit in the little sports car. This means that it will be difficult to get into Wash’s Civic and buckle up because I’m pretty sure the dress has not shrunk in size.

The problem is that I have not shrunk in size, and I am at least a dress size or two bigger than I was senior year of high school. SoI’m hitting the treadmill and the ab lounge; I’ve eaten the last of my V-day candy from Wash, and now I’m eating very little in the way of junk food and I’ve had only a few diet cokes. I was drinking too many cokes, and I am now drinking more water and slimfasts instead. I’ve got until May 2, the day of Mock Prom, to lose enough inches to fit into that dress, and it won’t be an easy task. I’m have to really work on it and work hard. I can’t really afford to buy a new dress, nor do I want to buy another dress that I know I will never wear again. Honestly, if I really could afford it I would buy a new one because the Cinderella dress has too much froufrouy to suit my personality. But I suppose that I will just make do and get all dolled up in the froufrou dress. I’m going to do my own hair instead of spending a fortune on my hair this time. All I really need is to buy is shoes and probably some sort of jewelry.

And yes, Wash is my date for Mock Prom, and I’m a bit afraid that my huge dress will not fit in the Civic. I am excited for Mock Prom, though a might concerned that I will not be able to get into my dress. I’ve got a long way to go to get into the thing. But I think it will be fun to get all pretty again and really pretend to be a real lady. Most times I shout at people who call me a lady and inform them rather quickly that I am no lady. But hey, I am an actress. So I’d better get back to work on my mock trial and fixing my lunch. Then it’s to the treadmill and ab lounge.

Chivalry appears to have died… but who killed it?

Currently Listening to: Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey
Currently Reading: Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce
Current Projects: Plotting Summer Adventures
Current Countdowns: None

Wow, it’s been a little longer than I mean to it to be since I posted an entry. Apologies, apologies, for I meant to be a bit more dedicated to the blogging. But anyway, it’s time for another slightly snarky entry about the world around me.

So the title of this post may lead you to believe that this will be a rant against men, who fail to be chivalrous, but that would be a bad assumption. Because I usually don’t find fault in one gender without locating the fault in the other gender as well, unless it’s really only one gender’s fault in the first place. In this case fault lies in both men and women and that is why there is a question at the end of the title. Clearly chivalry is not totally dead, but it is not totally alive either; I’d just like to throw that out there before someone jumps me immediately screaming that they open doors for their girlfriend or screaming their man is a total gentleman. I’ll admit that Spoony is a gentleman and attempts to treat me like a lady when I let him, though I sometimes rebel.

So what evidence do I have for the claim that chivalry has died? Well first of all, a girl can be loaded down with books and barely able to open a door, and no one will offer to help her. She can take a tumble headed down the steps and ten guys will walk by and laugh at her instead of helping her up. There can be only one empty seat in the computer lab and to get to it you’d have to navigate through the huge mass of people seated at the other computers, but not one guy will move more than an inch or two to let a girl through. Rarely will a guy help a girl out unless he is her boyfriend or close friend, and it’s sad to say but this is not totally the guy’s fault.

We women wish to be independent, and we constantly remind men that we can take care of ourselves. When doors are opened for us, we tend to remark that we could’ve done it ourselves, and we don’t want to be treated as weaker because of our gender. I catch myself informing Spoony that “I’m a big girl, I can open my own doors and everything”, even though I appreciate the gesture. We have a horrible habit of confusing men. What I mean is that men afraid that if they open a door or offer to carry something they will get shouted at and called sexist. Because women don’t want their doors opened for them because they are so independent. But they also don’t want to seem rude by not doing the gentlemanly thing and offering to help. Men are caught between a rock and a hard place, and we women put them there.

But it’s not all the fault of women. The male population gets sometimes lazy and only helps out when there might be something in it for them. Case in point. I did an experiment on campus and to be honest I wasn’t surprised at my results. For the first half of the day I wore a skirt. Not just any skirt, mind you. This skirt was a very short plaid school girl skirt, and I wore it with a black tank top and flip flops. Needless to say I was showing a reasonably large amount of skin. During that half of the day, guys rushed to open the door for me and offered to carry my bag because “it looked heavy.” I appeared very, very feminine, and very showy, and that got me help. The rest of the day I exchanged the skirt for jeans. The male response was that I didn’t receive any help what so ever. At lunch I struggled to carry my bag, my purse, my notebook that didn’t fit in the bag, my lunch and my drink, but guys just kept going about their daily lives as oif they could not see me, even when I had to push my way through them to get to the door. I appeared less feminine and I suppose more independent, and that got me no help. This little experiment only accounts for the male population on my campus, but it was interesting none the less.

In conclusion, chivalry is dying and everyone is killing it, men and women. Who is more responsible? You tell me.

Am I, is it possible, maybe, becoming trendy?

As I sit this morning drinking my Starbucks frappuccino, something I’ve actually never had before yesterday morning, it dawned on me that I seem to be turning into some kind of trendy yuppie. I’m a Starbucks addict I guess; I love their hot chocolate especially the peppermint, and now I’ve discovered the wonderful coffee substance known as the frappuccino. Today I had a dark chocolate peppermint mocha frappuccino, and it was delicious. I’m not a coffee person, but the frappuccino does not have a strong coffee flavor, so its really good. I’m also a smoothie addict; I love the Orange Shooter from Freshens. Yes, the fruity goodness calls to me and I’m very much addicted. They are a healthy treat, so it’s not a bad thing, just a ‘dear lord am I really becoming just like them’ thing, which I will explain later. Also I’ve noticed that my choice of clothing has change because, heaven help me, I’ve begun to find some of the current styles attractive and they look good on me. I was looking for a change, to dress up my wardrobe that has been a little boring and monotonous.

And now to explain my fear. I don’t want to become like them, and by them I mean those plastic fake people. I pride myself on being real, on not bending to trends just because that’s what’s cool today. And yet here I sit, drinking a Starbucks coffee in my cute little black and red layered outfit. It scares me to think that I might be losing my own real personality, and that I might not be as strong and independent as I thought I was. I don’t want to lose myself to some random trend. I don’t need to fit in and be like everyone else, so it worries me that I might be slipping. I’m typically a rebellious perosn, I guess, and I don’t fit into a category other than ’southern’. So to feel as though I’m starting to just melt into the crowd.

I don’t want to be one of the thousands of Barbie doll, plastic girls. I don’t want $200 jeans or $100 shoes, and I don’t need them at all.

Saturday night’s alright…

So Saturday night Spoony and I went to see Beowulf. Yes the crazy Lucky went to see yet another guy flick with her boyfriend, but I guess that means that I’ll get to go see a chick flick later. It was fun, even if the movie wasn’t the best I’ve seen in a while. So I suppose I can give you a brief review of the movie and then talk about the rest of the night.

Would I recommend that you see Beowulf? Well, maybe. It depends on what you like in movies. The 3D was OK; there were a few really great scenes and effects. Like the monsters and stuff. This is definitely not a movie to take your little kids to, though. Parts of it were a bit graphic, especially Grendel’s attacks. There was also some nudity and lewd comments that were definitely adult oriented. They actually didn’t screw up the story as bad as I thought they would. It was the original epic with a twist, that sort of gave the old story a new kick. But it’s not a great movie. I sort of laughed at the people who were screaming, while I did jump occasionally, nothing was especially scary to me.

At the theatre we sat for an hour and a half because we were too late for the showing we were going to catch and too early for the next one. So we people watched, and Spoony and I chatted with an older couple. There weer a lot of high schoolers there and it made me feel old. I’m only 20, but all these kids looked like they were 12. And some of them were dressed in ways that made me want to smack them. Why would anyone do some of the things they did to their bodies. As Spoony pointed out, they all look the same, even the guys look just like the girls, and the funny thing is, they were trying to stand out I guess. And you could tell who was there for a date and who was there with just a group of friends. It was sort of funny to listen to Spoony analyse all the people. He’d point out couples on their first date and this one group that were either double dating or the guys were sort of ‘marking their territory’ for later. All in all it was a good night of lots of fun and distractions.

Oops, I think my chickness is showing…

You know you are a redneck tomboy when you have moments when you either think or say out loud “Damn, I’m such a girl” or “Oh my god, I’m such a girl” and if they happen to you fairly frequently, perhaps I should explain myself for you first time readers. Lucky is not very feminine most of the time. In fact, Spoony often has to remind her that she is a girl and that its OK that she is. It comes from the fact that I’ve lived most of my life as just one of the guys. I have very few female friends, at least close female friends. I have a few from mock, but none I’m close to. That has other implications that I’ll get to later. Most of my close friends are guys. D–, Jonathan, Mike, the Freshman, the list goes on. So it stands to reason that I’m not used to being all girly.

Regular daily attire for me is a regular shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and a hoodie. I wear light, very light, make-up, and the most I do to my hair is straighten it. Mascara and eyeliner are only for special occasions and mock trial, and I only wear the make up to cover my really terrible skin recently. I almost have to straighten my hair to make it manageable, but it almost always gets pulled into a pony tail by the end of the day. Honestly at the moment I’m at my most comfortable. I’m wearing jeans, tennis shoes, a t-shirt from my high school AP US History class, and my college hoodie. I’ve got minimal make-up on and just some lip balm due to the fact that my lips are really dry and I can’t deal with chapped lips.

As a result of my non-girliness, I’m rarely noticed by those of the male persuasion. That’s no big deal considering I captured the attention of the one guy I wanted to notice. However it was surprising, and it never ceases to amaze me that he finds me attractive and tells me I’m beautiful. But for the most part I’m still treated as one of the guys and I guess that’s fine. I rarely get hit on, which is not a big deal except when I feel like the ‘ugly friend’ or something. It’s not that I want to be hit on, I am taken and all, it’s just that it’s weird to be the girl no one notices.

With me things are changing though. I’m getting slightly more girly. I guess I could give that credit to Spoony. I worry about what I look like more often, and I even wore a skirt yesterday, which is a rare occurence. I’m trying to get into shape, and I’m trying to loose some of this weight. I don’t want to be the fat chick forever. I’m not sure how much I like the fact that I’m getting more girly or if it’s a good thing at all. I think that part of this change also comed from the fact that in the courtroom being a woman is a big deal. I’m so used to being judged based on how good I am that I get major league pissed when someone judges me on my gender. Does that make sense?

So I’m getting used to the fact that I’m a chick, and I will be treated like one. It’s like the fact that the guys are more careful around me lately. I don’t like it, but I know why it happens. It’s because they’ve finally noticed that I’m a girl. I’m less a part of the group because I lack the sufficient amount of testosterone, and they don’t feel comfortable joking around me like they used to. It makes me a little upset because I feel as though they see me as if I’ve become a different person, and I’m haven’t. But I’ll get used to it.