Editor’s note: Once in awhile, we at Internet Zillionaire like to open the doors of authorship to one of our frequent commenters. Sometimes they have a thought, gripe, or story they would like to share. Today, Miss Chantilly Stevens has something she’d like to get off her chest. I think you’ll find that her perspective brings a certain classiness not usually associated with boob humor (or this blog).
I used to snoop as a child. There was this drawer in my mother’s dresser where she would put all of her “extras”—the Tooth Fairy’s tooth collection, birthday cards, clip-on earrings and a large collection of cotton and poly-fiber shoulder pads. I can remember taking those shoulder pads, with the Velcro strips on one side, and stacking them inside my double A bra. I must, I must, I must increase my bust with one of the finest 80’s inventions, removable shoulder pads.
Why do I tell you this? Today at school I observed one of my favorite students, we’ll call her Chelsea, with a new look. I get the best parts of these students’ lives, in the middle of all the “What’s happening to me?” (Which, by the way, was how my parents told me about puberty, by putting that book on my bed.)
In class today my students were creating superheroes to be placed around the school. These paper cutouts would hopefully be a catalyst for change in the hallways. Today was the first day of the assignment and also the most raw. Most ideas at first are typical, “Hey Miss Stevens, what about Plunge-O?! And Poo is his nemesis!!” or “How about Homework Ninja?” But would Plunge-O really change their lives? Would they even be able to let Ninja into the building with all the security? There has to be something that will really change their lives. I suggested HormonE-Z, the superhero who could speed up puberty! As much as they laughed I knew it was all too painfully true, especially when I saw Chelsea.
Chelsea is a fun loving girl who was made over last summer and finally got rid of her a) unibrow (which I thought was cool) and b) the ribbons that matched each of her pink outfits. Someone had gotten to her and told her what was and was not O.K. As Chelsea was doing a ballet move across the floor, while holding and practicing her flute I noticed that Chelsea had some wrinkles of cloth underneath her shirt. I thought, “hmmm… Chelsea…gosh she’s always in such a rush she must have forgotten to pull her undershirt down.†So I thought I would help her out by enlightening her of the situation. How dumb am I? Of course she knew. I was made quickly aware of that fact when she put her head down and stumbled for her words saying, “umm, yeah, um…†Oh yes I remember this feeling—its the I’m-not-in-my-own-universe feeling, or the holy-shit-I-thought-this-was-the-perfect-plan feeling.
My discovery: Chelsea had rolled her tanktop under her t-shirt in order to simulate a larger chest, the chest she is hoping to achieve one day. After I told her she didn’t fix it. Oh no, that would be addressing the truth of the situation. The best part was that she subtly adjusted the arrangement. She must have thought, “This looked so good this morning!†I’ve been there…
Ahhh to be a witness to these moments, I may have the coolest job ever.