Hands, Bands, and Other Trends


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37. Childhood Story No. 2

When I was but a little girl

I could not twist and I could not twirl

Like my sisters, nor could I run

Like my brother did for fun,

So I had never won a trophy

And I felt like such a phony!

My siblings held every prize

Accolades of every size

 

So this is the tale of the first trophy I could win

This is how that horrid tale begins.

As I mentioned before

I was not one for sports

I could do nothing of note

Nothing, but I was complimented on the way I spoke

And I was told when I was very young

That my image is what I should focus on

So I decided to enter a pageant

And I spent days working on what I lacked in.

By the day I was so excited

That I spun in heels- well, I tried it.

It was during this failure that I got the call

That I was not allowed in the pageant at all

Because to enter I could not leave before noon

And I had left one minute too soon.

 

I lamented my loss, my heart broken

But it was then that I gained the horrid token.

For my school then called in outrage and disappointment

Because apparently they didn't mean it when they said I couldn't join in

Realizing their mistake was not mine

They gave me something...similar to a prize

A "participation trophy" I did not earn,

This was not the thing I yearned

But it was the only prize I had

And my family seemed quite glad

So this is the tale

Of my awful fail

 

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