College Admission Essays: Description and Interpretation Essay Example

I sat crouched on top of the toilet in the girl’s bathroom outside the cafeteria. I concentrated on the little tile patterns. Anything to stop it from coming again. OK, think about happy things. The upcoming weekend, pumpkin Tasti-D-Lite, Temptation Island on tonight at 9. Oh god, not again. Despite my best efforts, it happened for the third time in two days. I cried.

And it wasn’t just a little whimper either. It was full fledged, body heaving, tears running, red-nosed, crying session. As I cried, I thought about all of the events that had led up to this pathetic moment in time… and I cried some more. I emerged from the safety of my stall and looked in the mirror. I examined my eyes, which were crimson and glazed over. My nose was swollen and my cheeks were tear stained. I managed to somewhat drape my hair over my face and quickly put on my sunglasses before anyone could see me in this state. I exited the bathroom and headed toward the cafeteria, where I would spend the next half an hour assuring everyone that I was all right.

But was I? Is this normal? On an episode of Sex in the City, the issue of crying in the workplace was raised. Charlotte, the “emotional” one, cried at work one day in front of her whole staff. From that day on, she was mocked and the amount of respect she garnered plummeted. Everyone would comment, “Don’t move that picture to the wrong place: you’ll make Charlotte cry!” or something of that nature. She shared her experience with strong Samantha, who had been trying her best to control her emotions in front of her new boss. The question then became, Why can’t women cry without being labeled, “typical girls”?

As a first trimester senior, I have gained a full understanding of the words, “stress, pressure, and aggravation” and I have crumbled more often than I would like to admit. In addition to the usual college, work, stress combination, the World Trade Center disaster was thrown into the mix, adding a new level of emotionality and anger. It is this overwhelming mixture of variables that has apparently caused my tear ducts to be on permanent active duty. I used to be able to hold in my tears until I reached home, but now, the tiniest things set me off uncontrollably. Bad grade on a math test? How about a nice sob in the bathroom. Can’t remember what you did with the “good draft” of your college essay? Try a tear fest by the tennis courts.

When I cry, however, I feel as though I am fulfilling that typical women’s role. It’s expected for girls to be the emotional ones, the ones who gush over puppies, the ones who bawl when they break a nail. I always think to myself, “I am a strong person.” But when I get frustrated or upset or angered, I feel as though I have to cry. I have to get it out. The fact that I am a vocal senior girl sometimes gives people the impression that I don’t need to, or even shouldn’t, cry so frequently. People have told me to go for a jog, laugh it off, or take relaxing breaths in order to calm myself. I want to do these things and occasionally I try them, but to me, there is nothing that cleanses me like a good cry. I feel confident in the fact that I am intelligent and capable, so why do I feel so insecure about a reaction that my body feels is necessary? The World Trade Center disaster has made crying more acceptable, since the images of strong firefighters and brave policemen shedding tears has been plastered in magazines and on the news. In a society where we conform to standards and fit in and take things “on the chin,” the September 11th disaster has made crying an acceptable way to express anger and sadness. Hopefully, after these horrendous incidents, people will understand that crying is natural and should not only be acceptable when something hugely terrifying occurs. Crying as an appropriate response should not be limited to women and should not been seen as a sign of weakness. Both the “Charlottes” and the “Samanthas” need to cry sometime, and it is not because they’re women: it’s because they’re human.