For one week we pranced on the sidelines as the boys played recess soccer, shouting the lines we’d made up over our sandwiches – snarky poetry about lifting our shirts and whatever else rhymed with “shirts.” The lunch monitors shut down our rogue cheer squad by Friday. And so I walked into cheerleading tryouts as a college senior with my shirt firmly pulled over my stomach.
1 comment:
Greatest piece of compression ever. I feel so...compressed.
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