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Bitch Please


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Perfectly french manicured nails trace along his back. We wait in line to get inside Club Eclipse. The bouncer checks my ID, smiles at me, and waves us through. I'm feeling a little too confident tonight, standing tall in my black pumps and a mini skirt. My boyfriend towers over me with his hat tilted to the side and his polo smelling like Drakkar Cologne. I make my way to the bathroom, to primp like any other female on a Friday night.

 

"Girl I been gettin' deese zits all up on mah face" One thick girl pinches a zit on her forehead. Her and her friend are both dressed similar to me. The difference is in the way we carry ourselves. I'm confident, sly, and laid back. I've got the perfect man for me, so I'm not here to find one. These girls are obviously single, as they hover over the only sink in the ladies' room and poke and prod at their acne covered faces and smear their drag-queenish makeup. (Sorry, ladies, but it only looks good on the queens.)

 

I walk over to the floor to ceiling mirror beside her to check my face. I'm wearing mascara, because I don't need anything else. My face has nothing to hide. I put on some lip gloss, and smile to the mirror to check my teeth.

 

"Girl whatchoo do to make ya face so fresh an' clean?" (Which means how is it that I don't have acne).

 

"I'm a vegan." I smile, this is the sexiest moment of the night.

 

"What's a vey-jen?" I take her hand and pull a pen from my purse.

 

"V-E-G-A-N." I write it on her palm. "Look it up, it'll change your life."

 

I leave them. They're now hovering over the one word that may or may not alter their lives forever, instead of the sink of which they popped their zits over. I think to myself, "I hope."

 

 

Who knew clubbing could be so educational? It is with me

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