myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

myO Still <3's You

Vitals

Birthday
• 1993-05-02
Gender
• Female
Location
• Here
Member Since
• 2005-05-30
Occupation
• Life preserver :)
Real Name
• Belina

Personal

Achievements
• http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb281/Soul_Resistance/Untitled.jpg... Nuff said
Anime Fan Since
• Ever since Pokemon
Favorite Anime
• I'm not that obsessed anymore, to be honest. Mostly just Kare Kano, Ceres, Furuba, Ouran Highschool Hostclub, FMA, and, of course, ShinChan. X3
Goals
• Make it out of here in one piece
Hobbies
• Paranoia, mood swings, and the occasional emotional meltdown
Talents
• :)

myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

I have no idea if this story is any good or not because I just wrote it, but what do you think?

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Stephanie Duncan made the conscious decision to not wash behind her ears one morning for much the same reason everybody else eventually does.
Not because it felt particularly pleasant to keep the area behind her ears dirty, as she could earn much the same effect by actively plastering thin layers of mud to the sides of her face; not because she was the paradigm of filth and ear care neglect, as she took after her clean freak of a mother; and not because she was hell-bent on breaking her clean freak of a mothers poor, germophobic heart, as she was a complete mama’s girl and could not stand the thought of earning mother’s disapproval, but because she was simply tired of doing it.
For months she’d fought the urge to succumb to the filth and laziness, and honestly she hadn’t even fully intended on giving in even when she did, but it was such a tedious process by then and her stupid little brother had used up all the hot water in the shower so it was freezing cold and it had been a long day and, damn it, she was tired.
So, after she hurriedly finished rinsing her hair, she shut the water off, snugly enveloped herself in a towel, and stepped onto the bathroom rug outside the shower. At the time, she didn’t think much of it, but within an hour the guilt and fear started to set in.
The grime of sweat and dead skin had completely crusted over behind her ears by then. Because of her carelessness, she was no longer clean or pure, but permanently, irrevocably stained and no amount of showers would fix it, for even if Stephanie vigorously scrubbed and clawed at the unclean areas for the rest of her life, there would still remain that one follicle of dirt, that one unyielding, inexpungible, ugly as sin, microscopic spot and the terrible knowledge that it was all her fault.
Oh, how could she have been so stupid, so lacking in diligence? Why, Mother would die of shame if she knew! Oh, God, Mother—what if she found out?
True, unclean ears were easy enough to hide. A hat or a few tufts of hair perpetually covering them, and everything would be dandy—unless the dirt was to spread. If the dirt were to spread, the best case scenario would be an ear infection. At the thought, Stephanie shuddered. Definitely not fun. Still, an ear infection at least offered several possible fake causes Stephanie could give if anyone were to ask: she’d been swimming and gotten water in her ears, she’d had a terrible head cold and the mucus somehow clogged an ear-tube, she’d been diving and hadn’t cleared her ears correctly; so on and so forth. Yes, if Stephanie’s health had to be compromised at all by her ear neglect, her best bet was an ear infection. Her worst was that terrible, terrible disease that only affected females. Detangerpmi.
It was not only one of the most common and painful possible side effects of unclean ears, but also one of the most shameful because it was a dead giveaway. Symptoms included, but were not limited to, constant nausea, mood swings, perpetually aching breasts, diarrhea, and extreme increase in appetite that usually resulted in near obesity. Under very rare circumstances it could and had been hidden under the guise of a particularly malicious stomach flu or even a growth spurt if one didn’t get the nausea too bad. Sooner or later, however, detangerpmi always had a way of revealing itself.
For one long, terrible, heart-rending month, Stephanie lived in fear and dread until she finally couldn’t take it anymore and scheduled a doctor’s appointment.
Never more thankful for doctor-patient confidentiality, Stephanie told the doctor what happened. The doctor ran some tests and asked some questions and took some notes. A week later, the test results came back clean. Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief. No infections. No detangerpmi.
She was euphoric with relief. Then she saw them.
On the street outside her house, a young mother and her little girl were walking, smiling and laughing and perfect in their simplicity. The daughter’s ears were pristine. The mother’s were not, but their impurity was different from that of Stephanie’s. The mother’s ears were dirty for the sake of her child. She probably couldn’t afford the five extra minutes in the shower it took to thoroughly clean one’s ears because she was probably too busy making her daughter lunch or scaring away the monsters under her bed or getting her ready for kindergarten. She wasn’t like Stephanie or any of the other millions of people to not wash behind their ears because of mere laziness or rebellion or misinformation about the importance of ear cleanliness. No, there was purpose and sacrifice and love behind her dirty ears.
As Stephanie watched the laughing figures of the mother and daughter recede into the sunset horizon, her heart swelled with a forlornness that was one part self-pity, one part self-loathing. The dirt behind her ears would never be meaningful or beautiful like the mother’s. It would always be just dirt.
But, She wondered later that night as she got into bed. What if it won’t? What if the mother herself hadn’t always been so full of noble purpose? What if the mother had at one time experienced exactly what Stephanie was experiencing now? What if the mother had once been just a stupid, naïve kid like Stephanie who’d messed up and lost her ears’ cleanliness? If all that was so, then maybe the dirt behind Stephanie’s ears could also be full of purpose and promise one day. Maybe she didn’t have to spend her whole life wallowing in shame and despair over one minute of negligence. Maybe fighting to stay clean for as long as she did counted for something after all. Maybe admitting to herself that she’d made a mistake was enough. Finally, maybe her impure ears didn’t have to define her as an impure person. Maybe—just maybe—Stephanie was still Stephanie and would always be Stephanie with or without the speck of dirt behind her ears.

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