By Squeaky

"Hi, I’m Marcia Brady and I am baby-sitting. (sigh)I am sick of playing baby-sitter all the time. I am tired of having mom and dad always asking me to keep an eye on Jan, Peter, Bobby and Cindy. Why me? Alice, our houskeeper, is always around so why can’t she take care of the kids? Kids... Jan and Peter are old enough to take care of themeseles. Well, except maybe in mom and dad’s eyes.

Mike and Carol... what a pair. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve thought about calling them by their names. Boy, they would surely ground me if I did. See? That’s what I’m talking about. I’m sixteen years old and I am being treated like a child. Greg, my older brother, always gets to go out whenever he wants. Nobody asks him to take care of the others. It’s always me, Marcia Brady. It’s not that I don’t like my younger siblings, but sometimes I feel that I’m giving up my freedom.

Like the other day, I had been waiting all week for Jason, a boy from school, to ask me out. I had been flirting with him since the semester began until he finally flirted back. Are you surprised to hear me say that? Everybody thinks I am a saint. I admite I get good grades and I admit I excel in many extracurricular activities, but as I said, I’m sixteen and that’s practically being a woman. People say I am very mature for my age. As I was saying, Jason finally asked me out.

I was thrilled. I immediately went home after school. I was so excited I entered the kitchen skipping! Mom and Alice were there and I told them about it. The mom dropped the bomb: she and dad were going to some banquet and Alice had a date with Sam The Butcher. Just my luck... Of course Greg was not available and mom told me I had to baby-sit...AGAIN! (sigh)

Lately I’ve been thinking about not telling mom everything. I don’t know. I mean I never hide everything from her. Everyday, I tell her all I did that day, with whom I spoke and what I said. It’s like I feel I must do that. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe if I don’t tell her everything I’ll feel more independent, right? I feel like mom and dad have this power over me. A power I can’t overcome. I feel like I have to be perfect for them. Maybe my life would be filled with less pressure if I didn’t try to appease them all the time.

Jan and Cindy look up to me. I don’t think Jan likes me much though. She is always giving me these sarcastic remarks and rolls up her eyes whenever I receive a prize or tell her I have a date. I don’t blame her though because she is such a whiner sometimes. I don’t like talking badly about her, but she gets on my nerves. How can one person have such a low self-esteem? She thinks she is ugly, that she isn’t appreciated, that everyone sees her as my sister and just that. She told me she was my shadow and she was sick of it. I don’t blame her for being angry though. I wouldn’t want to be known as Jan’s Sister.

I am tired of being me. Sometimes I wish I were different. Like not so smart for instance or not sogood at everything I do.

Sometimes I wish I were alowed to do crazy things. Greg was caught smoking once. Once! And mom made it seem like it was anational crisis. If he wanted to smoke why couldn’t he. If he got bad breath, yellow theeth, a wrinkled face and lung cancer well that’s his problem isn’t it?

What am I saying? What am I talking about??? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Of course I don’t want Greg to get sick... EVER! I’m just trying to say that mom and dad should let us make our own mistakes sometimes. Probably, if they let us, we wouldn’t do them anyways. That’s just the way we are raised: as goody-two shoes. My mom lets me go out with any guy I chose and she never gets worried that we’ll fool around. I mean never! I could fool around if I wanted too. Or drink. Lots of girls from my school drink. They say it makes them forgive. I really don’t have anything I want to forget. Except maybe that: that I am such a nice girl I have nothing I want to forget.

Maybe I want to be a bad girl. Why are you laughing? I could be a bad girl. From now on, I’ll leave the dinner table without asking for permission, I will not brush my teeth twice a day every day and I will definetly be sexier on my dates. That’s right. On my next date, I’ll let whoever the guy is put his hand on my thigh when we make out. How about that?

Look, I have to go now. You are a really good listener. What was the question agin? No, I’m not interested in buying your magazine. Is that all? Okay, bye!" said Marcia and she hung up the phone.

THE END

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