La boum: mon histoire

Bonjour, tous ceux qui lisent ce blog! C'est Sandrine, et je vais vous dire mon histoire. La boum? C’était assez bon.
Yeah, so it wasn't like the dance was the best thing that ever happened to me or anything, but it was okay. I will say that I was a little put off when Chrissa requested the song "Dancing Queen" by ABBA (she said it was her "theme song") and began dancing wildly on a chair. There was no need for her to show off like that!

Also, I felt extremely copied off because I told Chrissa that "Dancing Queen" was MY theme song. Her "theme song" was something completely different, but of course, she had to change her mind out of her obsession to be like me or whatever. She's just so obsessed with wanting to be "French" that she thinks being like me or doing what I do will make her "French". Um, no. It will just make her annoying. Chrissa is supposed to be my friend, too, so I told her how I felt in a calm and collected manner...just like my psychologist back in France suggested. She just nodded and said she didn't know what she did, when I'm sure she did, but she was probably one of those people who lived in denial when confronted.

After letting Chrissa know how I felt, I stood in a corner with Malorie. I was very impressed with how I put her together. I made sure to dress her in one of the Edwards girls' Polo Ralph Lauren dresses because I feel that the preppy look does Malorie justice. The dress also looks phenomenal against her coloring!
I let Malorie know that Chrissa was getting on my nerves, but she seemed too distracted by other stuff. "Sandrine, remember when I told you I had something important to tell you?" She told me. She nervously played with her hands and twirled her hair- two pet peeves of mine. Nervous habits annoyed me.
"Yeah, Malorie! Can't it wait until after the dance?" I snapped, clearly forgetting the advice my old psychologist gave me.
Malorie lowered her head. "I guess it can. I mean, I waited this long! I guess I could just wait even longer. It's been months."
"D'accord...well, tell me later," I shrugged. "Let's go talk to Chrissa and distract her from boosting her ego."

"I just really wish you'd stop being so dismissive," Malorie whispered nervously as we walked towards Chrissa. "It's important."
I snapped again. "Define 'important', Malorie! I said it can wait!"
"'Important' means that what I need to say involves you!" Malorie exclaimed.
"If it was so important, you could have just told me when it happened!"
Malorie frowned. "I didn't want to upset you at that point. You seemed in a fragile mindset, and I just wanted to let you rest. Forget it. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Great idea, Malorie. Great idea," I said haughtily.
That was when I realized that my problems were coming back. It wasn't doing me any good to be away from my psychologist. I could have found a new psychologist, but I thought I was fine! I thought being away from France- from my past- would help me! I didn't think I'd need constant therapy, but I guess I did. Ha, looks like all of us surprise ourselves once in awhile.

To top it all off, Micki approached me. It looked like she was on her way back from flirting with Julien or something. Why she would give him the time of day, I do not know. Whatever. It wasn't my problem.
"Why are you wearing that dress?" Micki scoffed. "It's summer and 95 degrees outside! I hope you have a heat stroke!"

Without thinking about my actions, I shoved Micki aside. "I could ask you the same thing about your sweater. Or, I could ask you why you stole my dress from my room. However, I just really want you to get out of my way. Bye."
Micki didn't say anything. She just gaped. I then thought about my psychologist once more and how he'd tell me to write down the crazy things I did in my behavior journal. I laughed to myself. What was that going to help? I already determined that I was going to take care of my own problems, but one could say that I was doing a pretty lousy job at that. I just shrugged it off. I guess I got too caught up in the moment, and I'd have to remind myself not to do that again.

We then met up with Chrissa.
"Hey, would you like to take that group photo by la Tour Eiffel now?" Malorie asked.
Chrissa giggled. "Hey! You know the French word for it!"
That surprised me, too, considering Malorie took Spanish and the only French words she knew involved dance.
"Oh, and Sandrine?" Chrissa told me. "I'm sorry about earlier."
"Okay," I grumbled. "Let's just go take that picture."