Narraitve

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I heard the blaring horn ricochet through the cul-de-sac in front of my house. Desperately juggling my beach things, I shuffled toward the waiting car and hurled them into the trunk. As the car pulled away, it seemed like another summer day. I did not know I would learn an indispensable lesson. By the end of the day, I would recognize that I should never judge anyone.

We sought out a vacant place in the sand and arranged our things. The beach was beautiful, while teeming with people. I went with my girlfriend, Caroline, and her three girlfriends. These girls were spoiled, snobby and felt as if they were god's gift to earth. Their bodies oiled up, wearing Burberry bathing suites with matching headbands and Gucci sunglasses. Each one of them could have starred along side Alicia Silverstone in the movie "Clueless." As I lay relaxing on the beach, I ease dropped into the girl's conversation and they began examining other girls their age; they enjoyed criticizing their bathing suites, their looks, and attitudes. Ew look at the one in the suit with the stripes. Who is she kidding? They also examined what they considered "botched nose jobs," with out, even knowing if they in fact had surgery. Of course, there was not a chance that they pass up pointing out cottage cheese or cellulite. I rolled over all relaxed to look them all "You girls shouldn't be so critical of others, it's just not right." It seemed as if they all knew that they were not even close to being flawless, and that judging seemed to be a standard practice in a these teenage girls life. My girlfriend's best friend Jessica was sitting on the other side of me and tapped me on the shoulder. "It may sound appalling, but everyone has done it sometime. We are just simply entertaining ourselves, despite how distressing it seems."

After a long pause in their assessment, I saw a girl close to our semi circle of chairs. I saw nothing wrong with her face, bathing suit, or hair but something was not right. Her posture noticeably illustrated that she was trying to amend her bodys appearance. Her shoulders were heaved backward, so her chest protruded unnaturally. This made her ribs jut through her skin to form tiny, misplaced peaks. Lastly, her stomach inverted so deeply that it seemed there was no leeway for her to breath. I felt bad for this young woman because I knew in a matter of time the critics who were sitting with me would notice her. Jokingly I whispered to them, "Have fun with that girl over there." They finally noticed the girl, and not bothering to find out if she could hear their conversation, my girlfriend's friends sarcastically remarked on how artificial her form appeared. As she turned to take her seat, she directed her back toward us revealing a surprise. From the nape of her neck to the small of her back stretched a substantial, crimson scar.

I stared at her wondering if she had overheard. My guilt rapidly expanded and plummeted to the pit of my stomach like a stone to a river bottom. I decided to hole up near the concession stand, and besides, I was thirsty anyways. I needed to remove myself from the situation. While I ordered, I described the mishap to an acquaintance that I had coincidentally bumped into. Before I could express how sincerely horrible I felt, the girl with the crimson scar strolled up right behind us. She had been less than ten feet away. She heard everything I said except for my reaction. I looked at my friend shocked, said a prompt good bye, and hurried back to my chair.

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For the duration of the day, I remained virtually silent. My guilty conscience tumbled and swirled within me. A blunder was made, feelings were injured, and I was at the root of the ordeal. I can only imagine the pain that I had inflicted on that girl. She has to live everyday of her life with that unsightly mark and there I was drawing attention to it. I realize now that there is no advantage from judging others. To be an accomplice in this habit cannot be justified by saying, I dont realize I do it," or everyone else was, so I joined in. Whether the victim of criticism can hear it or not, it is still a waste of breath.

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