I said, pointing to the inner backsides of my knees and calves,"They're these spiderweb looking things all over my legs. Maybe next Mother's Day I should get a black widow tattooed in the middle of this veiny webbed mess. What do you girls think?"
"Eeew, Sister Suzuki, tattoos are so ugly and gross."
"Just kidding, girls, you know Sister Suzuki would never get a tattoo." And then I said, "Never let me talk about myself in third person again, OK?" They all agreed and then we talked all about the Anti-Nephi-Lehis.
I thought about mi Madre all day. I remembered the time I came home bawling my brains out because Eric Furgeson had decided to run against me for Student Body President. He was so cute and all the girls loved him. I was not as cute, and all the girls just liked me. I couldn't compete, and now my chances of getting into BYU were ruined. I was counting on that leadership position to erase my inconsistent GPA pattern.
"Stop crying, honey. We'll think of something," she said while hugging me and patting my back. I went to my room and cried in the mirror. Isn't that weird of me?
My mom peeked her head through the door and said, "In the morning before seminary, let's plaster the school with posters. I'm talking hundreds of copies in every hallway, and then one big poster above the auditorium. We'll write, "Vote for Katy; She's your lady," all over the place. Eric won't put that kind of effort into it; he's a boy."
We got to work printing hundreds of fliers and making about 20 posters. One of the posters was 10 x 20 feet long, and in big black block lettering it said: VOTE FOR KATY. Like a super hero duo, mi madre and I flooded the campus with hundreds of posters. By 6 a.m., the school was a billboard: VOTE FOR KATY; SHE'S YOUR LADY.
The poster campaign was a hit. Students would walk by me saying my campaign slogan, but Eric rebutted, offering girls dates and an glossy 8 x 10 glamor head shot of himself. Girls put the pictures in the covers of their binders, idolizing and kissing his face during lunch. I was disgusted. Didn't these same girls remember I had been their loyal class president for 9th and 11th grade? The nachos and pizza they enjoyed during lunch were because of me, and I was the one who fought for Prom to be next to Disneyland. Eric had never been on student council in his life! But a pretty face can get you far in high school, and I was sure his looks, and nothing else, would catch their votes.
Mi madre continued making posters and treats for me to hand out during the week, and all along she'd say encouraging things: You're a winner. Don't sweat that jerk-face. Be strong.
On election day, resigned to losing, I waited to hear the results during 4th hour. The principal announced the winners, starting with 9th grade. As he neared the senior class I shuttered to think how prom, pep rallies, and fund-raising would culminate under Eric's reign. I hated him for running against me.
To Be Continued...I have to clean the bathrooms and fold the laundry or else my homies won't find their clean socks. Then mi Amor will wonder what I did all day:)