I have a word for those perfect little princesses crawling all over my high school:

cheetos. 

 

It started as a joke, honestly,

we were talking about how their really bad spray tans 

make them look orange, and

their caked-on-- baked-on-- makeup was really like a powder

and poof! A connection was made. 

 

And you think about it more and it really just fits, 

you know, like a nickname that was always meant to be

like how I was called bug

 

and, seriously, this is the best thing I've ever come up with. 

 

Because these girls--

not only are they orange

and just covered in weird makeup powder

they're always acting fake

on the inside, 

where cheetos are dry and white and dull

 

these are white girls, by the way. 

 

and I'm not saying they aren't smart

I'm just saying they acted like knowledge was weakness

and being dumb was flirty 

and, as a nerd, every compliment I got from them felt like a trap. 

 

You know how when you get some cheetos you get excited

until you eat them and

that gross cheeto powder gets all over your hands? 

 

That's the gossip trap. 

They say something nice, but 

it just has this undercurrent you 

can't put your finger on

and you have this insecurity the rest of the day

clinging to you like that

ridiculous, annoying cheeto dust does. 

 

I mean, really.

It's a perfect metaphor. 

 

The poor cheetos are oblivious to what they are. 

They ask each other if their spray tans are too orange

and laugh at me for carrying around a book, 

until one pipes up they wish they read more

and comes up to me later, privately,

asking how I'm so unafraid.