A Day in the Life
Published on Mar 30, 2016
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At 5:30am, my alarm rings and vibrates. “¡Levantate de la cama!” my mother says loudly as she opens the blinds in my room. I drag myself in and out of the shower and then pull my long, dark hair into a bun. I can barely keep my eyes open; I was up until 1:30am struggling through my literature and chemistry homework. After gathering my books, I hurry into the kitchen, grab a pop tart from the box on the counter, give my younger brother a quick hug, and scurry out the door. After walking six blocks, I catch the bus. I take a deep breath as I step on board; I know that the usual crew of boys that sit in the front of the bus will have something to comment on regarding my looks, like they do every morning. I don’t always hear what they say, but I can always feel their eyes on me as I walk to the back of the bus. No matter what I wear to hide my shape, which I’m still getting used to, I cannot stop the eyes on me. I wish that I had the courage to respond back to the boys who always seem to have the courage to address me, but I’m scared of further ridicule. I take my usual spot alone toward the back of the bus and stare out the window. This twenty minute ride, and the afternoon ride home, are the two parts of my day where my mind can rest in quiet.
Photo by shoebappa
I go to school one day. When I arrive at school all of my teachers wave hello. Some students make rude remarks as I walk by and start laughing. I don’t know what they said, but when I saw them laughing, something inside me made me feel that it was about me. Plus, I’m pretty good at reading lips. When I got to class the teacher said something, but I missed it. I see everyone pulling out their math books and figure the class must be starting. The teacher begins introducing the lesson and says that it’s about algebra. Then she turns to the board and begins writing. I struggle to hear the explanation, but I can’t hear, so I just start to zone out and look out the window. Next thing I know, my teacher walks by and taps me on the shoulder. She speaks and signs to me “You need to pay attention”. I use sign language and sign back to her “I can’t hear when you face the board”. Showing obvious signs of frustration with me, my teacher walks away. At lunch time, I look for my best friend and we sit together. I only have one friend at school, my best friend Stacy. As we eat, Stacy tells me “those girls were talking about you again when you walked by. They didn’t see me standing behind them”. Stacy understands sign language so I signed “Oh well, I figured they were talking about me, they’re just jealous.” After lunch I went into the bathroom stall where Stacy couldn’t see me and began to cry. I lost track of time and I was late getting back to class. The teacher was upset and sent me to the office. When I got to the principal’s office, he commented on my constant tardiness. I tried to explain that I don’t always hear the bell, but the principal said “You can see other students heading to class, that should be your hint”. Since I don’t want to tell the principal where I was or what I was doing (crying in the bathroom like a loser), I stay silent as he goes on to explain that he understands that I have a hard time hearing, but how I need to use my tools and resources wisely. After the principal, I went to the bathroom again and started to cry again out of frustration. My best friend must have seen me and followed me this time. She asked me what was wrong. I sign to Stacy because I don’t want other girls to hear my conversation, “No one at this school understands me except for you”. The final bell rings, I hear it this time and I’m ready to go home after a long day.
Photo by RoryCB
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After a grueling day, I walk fifteen blocks to the local mall for my evening shift at Glamoda, a trendy clothing store. (Image: http://medias.photodeck.com/bb61c352-bc00-11e1-93c7-4941feccedc2/AECsilo_32... ngFinalMRG_xlarge.jpg) I am often in the stockroom at Glamoda, which I like because itfeels safe and quiet, and I don’t stand out. You see, I stick out in the fashion world like a tumbleweed on the beach; I doesn’t belong. I needs the money from this job to help out my family though. (image: http://www.wunrn.com/news/2013/11_13/11_11/111113_young_files/image002.jpg)... Unfortunately, today one of the other employees, Janice, with the dyed platinum hair and hoop earrings, is sick and unable to come to work, so I have to work less in the quiet of the stockroom and more on the bustling sales floor. (image: http://archive.theplastiki.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/Swish-busy.jpg) I see two beautiful girls from school who have their arms locked together while they giggle their way into Glamoda. As they are trying on some of the newest shirts in Glamoda’s collection, they spot me folding sweaters near the corner of the store. (image: http://femalemag.com.my/sites/default/files/imagecache/featured_image_640xf... t/ladies-girls-shopping-hd-hq-wallpapers-9999996.jpg)They immediately start snickering to each other and calling me cruel names. “Puta.” “Fatty.” “Stupido.” “Fea.” (image: http://images-2.domain.com.au/2012/06/01/3340433/dt_laughing-girls-20120601... 1898-420x0.jpg)I can’t quite hear them, but I can see my boss, Lizbet, reacts right away. She takes me back into the stockroom and asks why I don’t wear more of the fashions from Glamoda. I try to make her understand that I can’t afford them, but she doesn’t seem to be listening. She says something about me “showcasing” Glamoda fashions if I want to continue working here. I don’t want to look up at her because I don’t want her to see the tears in my eyes, so I just keep my head down and miss most of the rest of her lecture. After a few more minutes, Lizbet tells me that I am not a good fit to continue working at Glamoda and that she would send my final paycheck in the mail and asks me not to return to the store unless it is to purchase clothing. (image: http://careergirlnetwork.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/fired.jpg)I grab my purse from the stockroom and shuffle out of the store keeping my head down. I don’t look at them, but I know the two girls from school are in hysterical laughter. I’m sure they will claim that they got me fired and can’t wait to tell everyone at school tomorrow. I don’t know how I’m going to break this news to my family.(image: http://blogyeu.vn/wpcontent/uploads/2015/01/cutealonesadgirlbrokenhea... I. Y
Photo by Lotus Carroll
