Diaries I Read:
OK, so my freshman year sucked.
But I didn�t want to be a quitter, and I didn�t want to just sit around complaining for four years. So I decided that my sophomore year was going to be different.
First, I talked to the gymnastics coach about the possibility of joining the team. He gave me the thumbs up, and I spent the entire summer trying to re-learn a lot of skills I hadn�t done for over four years. I worked my butt off. Gymnastics is not a sport like tennis or skiing, where you can take a season or a year off and then start back up where you left off. No, you lose flexibility and strength and the courage to do crazy stuff like flips on four-inch-wide balance beams. Anyway, I worked hard.
Then I decided to rush for a sorority. I actually had been planning on rushing my freshman year, but for some reason I decided not to at the last minute. Maybe things would have been better that first year if I had rushed. Then again, maybe not (read on).
I also moved into a great apartment with four other girls I had become friends with in the dorms. So all in all, I thought I was setting myself up for a much happier year the second time around. Ha.
The first thing that happened was that rush was a disaster. I had entered into it thinking it was a no-brainer and that of course the houses I liked would like me in return. I had been a cheerleader, a Homecoming princess, a senior council member � all the good stuff I thought sororities liked. But when I was thrown into the horror that is rush (and it really is an AWFUL, superficial process), I guess I didn�t make a great showing. Looking back now, I probably just wasn�t all that good at making good first impressions. I mean, you talk to one girl after another for three minutes at a time and then they go off and vote on whether or not they want to be your friend. I�m not good at small talk. I�m a little shy at first. And man, my self-esteem had taken a beating the year before. I�m sure it showed.
So � on the second day of rush all of the �cool� houses (except for one, which actually happened to be my favorite) dropped me. On the second day, I had to go back to visit the dorky sorority that only had six members (the ultimate humiliation � everyone knew you didn�t CHOOSE to go back to that house). And then on the third day, the one house I still wanted dropped me. I was crushed. I dropped out of rush altogether. And to add insult to injury, the four girls I was living with were also rushing, and they were still being invited back to all the houses that had rejected me. I couldn�t stand being there. I actually packed a bag and went and stayed at J�s house. (It was the week before school started and he hadn�t even moved in yet. All there was in his room was a bare mattress on the floor. I slept on it using a towel for a blanket. Is that a pathetic image or what?)
So I hid out for a day or so. I didn�t know what to do. I literally wanted to disappear. I remember the night of �Preference,� where all the girls get dressed up and go to their last two houses to make their final decision. I saw all these girls walking up the street in their nice dresses and heels, and I just wanted to die. I couldn�t imagine what was wrong with me so that the sororities wanted these other girls and not me.
Well, it ended up that when I finally returned to my apartment the day after rush ended, there were four or five messages from sororities wanting me to join. What happens is that sometimes the houses get screwed because the girls that they choose don�t choose them in the end, and they end up with fewer new pledges than they need to support the house. So they look on the list of people who dropped out and choose people off that list to offer them a bid. So I got several desperation bids from various houses. But it happens that one of those houses offering me a bid was the one that I�d wanted from the beginning, so I swallowed my pride and accepted it.
It was a good thing. I enjoyed the next three years MUCH more because of my sorority and the friends I made there. BUT I�d be lying if I said that I didn�t always feel like I was a second choice. That I was only there because someone prettier, smarter, more fun, more whatever had chosen to go elsewhere.
THE BEAUTIFUL GIRL
Once more I try on her skin,
stretching it until I fit,
but it is tight, pulled too thin,
and still I show through, trembling
with each smile, word, look
that is hers.
And lying here, face-down, picking
at the edge of a rubber butterfly
stuck to the bathtub bottom
(to keep you from slipping),
I can�t remember which
is the binge and which the purge
as hot water bounces
off the backs of my thighs
and vomit, diluted, trails slowly before
spinning down the drain.
I�ve never actually had an eating disorder, per se. That means I�ve never made myself barf or been hospitalized because I was too skinny. That is not to say that I didn�t have ISSUES. I still do, to an extent. Anyway, as always, poems are figurative.
Also, this poem is not really about rush. But the experience, along with others I may tell you about, did contribute to my ending up feeling this way.
Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004
Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004
On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004
A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004
Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004