Personal Narative- Tough Girl :: Personal Narrative Writing

Personal Narative- Tough GirlShe went to the land of Hollywood with a diamond wedding necklace suspension loosely from her neck like a noose before it gives its snapping goodbye. She went to the land of dreams with pride coloring her shadow a haughty swing of her thick whirl and why not? Her name was Serina she was named after a dream.Why not? I thought, though I cried the night before because she got the chance bestowed to her curvy hips, her livid Colgate smile, her crystal blue eyes. And what about me? What about me. I have neer had the smartness of a woman.I envied her from the day I realized that looking middling was more important than being rough. I had always been good in games, in fighting, in being well rough. When we were much younger, I used to ruffle her so badly that she never joined in any of our games. She became a weak ghost, a girl who was just thata girl. No more. Well I well I was more of a boy, a fighter, someone who laughed when the mother advised the daug hter to wash her hair with herbal shampoo to make it bright and black as coal. I ran after kites and acquire that slamming the flat of your hand into someones face is much more effective than curling that identical hand into a fist. I learned that one should never box someone with the thumb hidden inside the white-knuckled clench of a fist. I learned that if someone digs at your eyes with two fingers, you could just bring your flattened hand vertically up at your nose, and whoevers fingers however long, would never reach your eyes. I learned that being flat was more beneficial than being round.The day I discovered that I was turning round, that my legs could not abide me fast enough, that the boys I used to beat up now towered over me anger glinted inside like a raised knife waiting to fall. From indeed on, I stopped fighting with boys and started fighting with girls instead. I could have died for my gang - a group of seven girls who knew that their only honor was their strengt h. One day my recall dose was walking down the road after a harvest party with a cup of alcohol made out of rice gurgling in her stomach. She bumped into an sr. woman with a baby clinging onto her hip and the woman turned around and told her to watch where she was going, if she wanted so much to bump into somebody, why not piece on a boy and not a woman with child.