I only ever knew one girl named Holly. She was in my elementary school. I remember her being white, plain, and rather boring. Blonde hair. In braids, always in braids. She always made me think of those Holly Hobby lunchpails that girls at that age had, with the little girl with the bonnet and all those pale blue flowers. I always thought there was something sickening and disturbing about the images on those lunchpails. I never understood the attraction to that sort of imagery and remember being rather glad I was not born a girl; having to like that sort of thing just seemed unbearable.
