Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Chapter Two ya'll. Hope ya like.
---

Chapter 2: Cheerleading, or how I learned the world was skin deep.
---
I came three years after my sister. I remember growing up and watching how successful my sister was in everything she did. She got ribbons from horseback riding, medals from gymnastics, and ridiculous trophies from cheerleading. But the first two didn’t bug me, those were fine. I got to chase around goats at the local farm, and jump on the trampoline at the gym..
But cheerleading?
Invented by Satan, who is, by the way, a f*****t.
With a Bluetooth headset.
I recall one day actually trying to do cheerleading, or something along those lines, and couldn’t forward roll. I got so disgusted that I simply walked out, at the age of five, from the gym area. Even at that age I knew this was stupid…But it only got worse.
I was dragged to nearly all cheer occasions, and dreaded seeing another ******** prissy girl coated in clown makeup and glitter, cheering and screaming for no ******** reason. I didn’t understand why women were cheering in unison for their homosexual coaches, no doubt screaming their own little heads off at girls no older then 12, some even younger, fat moms almost busting their asses trying to cheer for their..cheer..leader?
Who was the leader of this cheer cult? As far as I could tell, no one was winning anything, and no one was gaining any progress toward a goal. The world of cheerleading consisted of people who lived through their children, and people who trained children to believe that perfection was skin deep. Women who wished they were young again edge their girls onto a stage, proud for what? Proud that their kid looks ******** retarded in front of thousands of shallow people in a skimpy outfit two sizes too small for their precious angel? Proud that their child will never be remembered because her true face was so shoveled over by make-up that she’d never realize her inner beauty, only to grow into a materialistic b***h? How many girls that are cheerleaders that you knew are good people now? Genuine folk who don’t judge and scowl? I know only one, and her name is Sara Colvard.
It made me sick to see how people displayed themselves at these cheer conventions, how little girls were itemized, put into groups according to size and beauty, literally numbered at some occasions. It made me hate the world for a long time, and made me realize how terribly hollow some aspects of life are. I remember my sister winning the Nationals for cheerleading, and feeling nothing. Sure, I loved my sister, and supported her choices no matter what, but there was no way to deny how crazy cheerleading was, and it only took an outsider like me two seconds to realize everyone within the enormous cheer community was one word.
Delusional.
No one was getting famous, no one had won the million dollar jackpot, and no one was certainly getting laid after all the fireworks and s**t-show flew the roost from the cheerleading competition. The only people get paid and laid were the managers of the cheer gyms. They were the real winners...
But then again,
Only a sense of emptiness and woe purveyed, like when one wanders an empty coliseum, not daring to whisper because they fear the echo, anticipating it’s quick response. No one likes to fetter away their worries alone, and the voices that pulse in and out of the sub-conscious can be the scariest of all.
---
My sister did her share of pageants as well, which I’d have to say is much worse than any cheerleading expo. To hold women up to a standard and then reward the most beautiful one? For what? Have you seen the answers some of those bimbos give on TV?
“If you could name your own country, what would it be?”
Bimbo: “Well, I’d obviously name the country Jesus, because he, like, died for our sins and is good and God is great and,’BLABLABLA.
It’s all bullshit, every last word from any one of those girl’s mouths. Saying what judge’s want isn’t what it should be about! I felt an urge to scream this out at every pageant I’d ever been at, to stand up on the stage and point at the judges, to tell them this was wrong, that it wasn’t from the heart. How many of these fake smiles did a judge have to glance over to not become disgusted with themselves, to throw up their scoring papers right then and there and quit. But this was how the world worked, and how it still does today..
And it makes me sick.