They Are the Girls

January 21, 2013

They are the girls who play baseball with the boys. They eat sheep milk feta, which they buy in large, briny blocks at the Greek market. They wear strappy sundresses without bras. They know that cream needs to sit in a cold, stainless steel bowl before it is whipped and the meaning of vichyssoise. They say things in e-mails I wish I put in short stories—”It’s good to eat potatoes from your hometown.” They own pastry cloths. They bike when they can, which is often, and roll their own cigarettes. They know that copper will turn pink hydrangeas cerulean. They properly fold the bottom sheet and drink tequila on the rocks. They are the girls who other girls think I am, but I am not.

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