My Best Friend:

A totally not class mandated writing exercise, of course:

She wakes up early in the morning.  Her cell phone's alarm clock blares a jagged and intrusive ringtone, but she simply saunters out of bed.  She likes to have plenty of time to get ready for school.  She's already picked out what she wants to wear today, but she hasn't quite decided how she'll style her hair.  The unpreparedness stresses her out. 

She purses her lips and takes the Chap Stick off of her nightstand and applies a waxy coat liberally to her mouth.  Her fingers run through her hair, which is oily and stiff from the short night's sleep.  She incessantly scratches the scabs on her head and curses her insubstantial chestnut locks.  She'll feel better after a shower, she always does.  In the common bathroom, she takes off her sleepwear, a light cerulean tank top and a pair of black shorts that stop just halfway up the thigh, and turns on the shower.  The hot water isn't working very well today, so she has to put up with an icy shower.  Hot showers make her face dry, anyway.

She returns to her bedroom clad in a towel, her slithering wet hair no longer oily, but still giving her problems.  She thinks about cutting it all off as she applies another coat of Chap Stick to her lips.  With her tools in hand, she applies her makeup, wishing she didn't have to primp every day for only two or three classes.  Her television softly plays a familiar jingle she hums along with.  It's going to be stuck in her head all day.

Braided, in a sweep, straight down...she considers all her options as she holds her dark brown eyeliner pencil a centimeter away from her matching eyes.  She plugs in her blow drier and begins to work on her hair, dreading the moment she will have to make her decision.  Her hair now crackling baked earth stays brushed and silent.  She sticks on her thick glasses and takes a long look in the mirror and considers the possible consequences of each arrangement.  She dresses in her prescribed garments and smothers her lips with another waxy kiss.

She prepares a simple breakfast: Organic oatmeal with bananas cut into it.  She's trying to get a healthy start this school year, and after countless promises to herself, she plans on honoring her body.  While she eats her healthy mush, a stray hair falls into her breakfast.  Her brow furrows as the steam from her oats form on her forehead.  The empty bowl is placed in the sink, and she makes her way to her bathroom sink to brush her teeth.  As she thoroughly scrubs, she continues to glance at her hair.   After rinsing her mouth out, she sighs and removes the hair-tie she wore around her wrist and pulls her hair into a sloppy ponytail.

She puts on her shoes, hoists her bookbag and purse over her shoulders and quickly mouths a list of items to herself.  Once she has ensured her possessions were accounted for and placed properly, she rummages through her purse again to make sure they are- in fact- there. 

She closes the door, ensuring twice that she has her keys with her. Before leaving her apartment building, she pulls another Chap Stick out of a pocket and re-applies her protection.

-Kat