Take a Letter, Maria

Dear Girl-Whose-Name-I-Totally-Know-But-Feel-Like-I-Shouldn’t-Broadcast-Here:

The ninth floor bathroom is markedly tiny. Three bathroom stalls, one sink, and one place to dry your hands. It’s why people move through this bathroom so quickly. No one wants to wait in line before or after class for too long. Moreover, you know how many people are in that bathroom at any given time. It’s small. You can tell when You’re Not Alone.

Which is probably why when I finished using the bathroom and was ready to wash my hands I thought you would move. I never expected your vanity would stop me from cleanliness, which we all know is next to godliness. And, it was okay when it seemed that you were just putting your hair up and leaving, but then you took it back down. And then you slowly put it back up, piece by long blonde piece, checking your reflection in the mirror from every direction after each little bit of gathering you did. And then you put it back down.

To put it back up again. And at that point I had been waiting to wash my hands for a good three minutes. You knew I was there, and I knew you knew I was there. And trust me, it was all I could do to not make a sarcastic comment. (I’ve come a long way since I needed to comment on everything.) But I have to know: Is it painful being so self-absorbed that you can’t step away from the mirror for the time it takes me to sing “Happy Birthday” twice? (Washing your hands is a serious business.)

And it’s not like you’re short. No, you’re tall enough that taking three steps backward would mean that you could still see yourself in the mirror. And I would be hunched over washing my hands at the sink for short people anyway. Why are you still doing your hair?

Then someone else walked in and you dropped all the hair in your hands and walked out of the bathroom, knowing that someone else in the bathroom would see your vanity meant that it could easily be spread around. All that work, and you decided to wear your hair down.

You have totally made it into my future sitcom as “Vain Girl” #2.

Oh. And when I got done washing my hands, I got out of the way to make sure that the next person could wash theirs.

Thank you for nothing,

Amanda

P.S. For someone who's so worried about their appearance, today you looked super trashy.

P.P.S. So there.