Ask a Beehive

By Mandi Meecham, age 12
Draper 34th Ward, Draper Utah Southeast Stake

Q: I know this is one of those big unanswerable questions, but still, it’s really bothering me. How can Heavenly Father love his children and still let so many horrible things happen in the world? Why must innocent people suffer so much pain?

A: Dude, I totally dig that. Like the other day I went to this completely freaking party at my cousin Grayson’s house, because I helped him pick out these totally sweet earrings for his girlfriend Kendra’s Valentine’s Day present and he owed me massive. Grayson is hot, which is totally freaky to say about my cousin, but it’s true. Just don’t tell anyone. He plays on Valley View’s football team, and so when he text-messaged me that I could come to his digs for the party, he was all, “FB dudes comin. DJ 2. CU2?” I completely hypered in chem class and dropped my lab glasses, which broke and I had to stay after to clean up, but I was all, Dude! I told Lindsee that Grayson had TMed me that the football team was going to be there and Dariann Jones, this senior who everyone wants to date because she was totally a finalist in last year’s Seventeen model search. I was all, “Lindsee! Check out my text message!” The entire Valley View football team is wicked hot, and Dariann Jones is totally my idol. She is actually going to intern for Self magazine in New York City when she graduates, and she owns a real Louis Vuitton bag and is six feet tall and a perfect size two. Last year, five guys got into a fistfight in school over who had asked her to the prom first. Sweet! Dariann is such a total Betty.

So, of course I totally wigged when faced with the bleak reality of my party wardrobe options. Everything was way too Little House on the Prairie for a killer swing like this was going to be. So I nabbed my mom’s plastic from her purse, which she was totally cool with because she got a massive speeding ticket when we were coming home from Brax’s soccer practice and I promised I wouldn’t tell Dad, and Stacee and I did some serious mallin’. I didn’t take Lindsee because we are not talking right now except in chem class when I need help. Anyways, I found these sweet silvery, glittery kicks with three-inch heels that just screamed “I am all that!” and I had to have them. They make me look sooo much older than twelve!

The sandals were mad cool and Dariann even complimented me on them, which was like the highlight of my life. And all these guys kept asking me to dance, and I was like, Sweet! Nothing bad could ever happen to me again! But although it seems too cruel to be true, high fashion has a dark side. I looked way hot, but after all the dancing, the sandals were seriously killing me. The straps dug into my feet, and the high heels made these little shooting pains go up my legs. So then I was thrown into this moral dilemma: What do you do when you look dead wicked hot in your kicks but they totally kill? It was brutal because I was like, I can’t be happy in these shoes and I can’t be happy not in them, because of their extreme hotness. The whole thing made me get totally down with pain and suffering and stuff. Like after I got home, I totally was going to mail some money to the earthquake victims in Sri Lion or whatever, but I can’t find where I wrote down the address to send it to, so I’ll have to watch more MTV to find out, which is way lame. But at least now I totally understand that God makes us suffer to teach us to have humility. And to not buy really hot shoes because they could seriously ruin your arches.

No comments: