Today I saw a girl of 11 or 12, with long blond hair, as I rushed into a store to try and make myself a healthy salad to offset all my shitty food addictions.
There she was. I saw her interacting with a more mature female of probably the same age, but clearly of a more mature mentality, but far less feminine and far less in-shape. My girl was kissing up to her. I wished she wasn't, as I wanted to drool and tell her she was better than her friend, without knowing anything at all.
My spritely, pretty-blond free-ranger in booty-shorts and Doc Martins with oddly gold-colored boot stitches up past her ankles, showed off her wonderful legs quite well, especially upon my exit, when she was now trying to balance herself on the back of her friend's bicycle before they took off. Her gorgeous legs in the shape of an A-frame while giggling so carefree with those Docs.. were a girl-lover's unknown and yet-trumpeted experience to treasure, to one who would never be suspected in any way in public, but for my forlorn vocal "sighhh" at the utter beauty I beheld while passing by.
(Oh, if she only approached me first, it woulda been on. But (to date, anyway) that just never happens. Yet. We're not included, but I'd become highly suspicious if we were.)
When will MY kind get recognized?
Probably never. Modesty in Babylon won itself few favors.
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