What's a Girl Gotta Do? by Holly Bourne Page A

annoying!
    â€œNow,” I continued, “I’ll explain to you again why I’m wearing make-up at MY BIG MEETING ABOUT IT this afternoon. If you would just WAIT, I have a whole PUBLIC SPEECH prepared about my frickin’ make-up for this afternoon’s special FemSoc meeting. So will you quit trying to shame me before I’ve even started, Mr Cameraman who’s supposed to be HELPING me?”
    â€œOkay okay okay.”
    â€œThank you.”
    I spied my first opportunity just as we approached a bus stop.
    â€œI need the clown horn,” I yelled, pulling it out and running towards the stop.
    â€œShe’s found one, she’s found one!” Amber ran after me – excitement radiating off her like a child who’d just run through the entrance to Disneyland. I drew up to the bus stop, where four or so people were waiting, and I started madly honking my horn at the advertisement on the side of it.
    â€œAttention, attention.” I raised my voice. “I just have to let you know, this poster is TOTALLY SEXIST.”
    Will and Evie ran up to me with the camera. I could see the bus drawing up behind them. I didn’t have long to try and win these people over.
    I pointed to the advertisement. It was for a new Hollywood film and the movie poster was shot between a woman’s legs. You couldn’t see her face or any other part of her apart from her perfect legs that most women could never get unless they lunged instead of breathed and then married a Photoshop specialist. The lead male was shot in all his bodily gloriousness and posed between the inanimate legs. He was allowed a face, a head, shoulders, arms, and all other body parts to be included on the poster at the same time.
    â€œThis poster is sexist,” I repeated, feeling slightly disheartened by the fact that people were ignoring me – instead looking at the arriving bus and fumbling for their bus passes in their pockets. “Why just have a random pair of women’s legs? Would you EVER see a film poster like this the other way round? Where the body parts of men were cut into pieces and assembled nicely around a full-bodied woman?” The loud hiss of the arriving bus drowned me out. Everyone got on, pretending I wasn’t there. Apart from a very elderly-looking lady who said, “You look just like my son, Michael,” before wobbling her way up the steps.
    The bus left us in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
    Amber slow-clapped. “Wow, Lottie. You really got through to them.”
    I coughed, feeling my face go red. “The important thing is I pointed it out,” I said, half to them, half to the camera lens. I smirked, remembering what I had with me. “And… I’m not finished with this poster yet.” I kneeled down, unzipped my bag, and yanked out a paper plate and a can of squirty cream.
    â€œUmm, what the heck do you have there?” Evie peered over my shoulder.
    â€œShh.” I pulled out a marker pen and wrote This is sexist on the back of the plate. “I am making a cream pie.”
    Amber, Will and Evie all crowded around me.
    â€œYou’re…you’re… Bugsy Malone -ing the bus shelter?” Evie asked, wonder in her voice.
    I nodded. “You said to make it funny.”
    Amber put her hand up while Will zoomed in. “Umm, what’s ‘ Bugsy Malone -ing’ mean?”
    As I was too busy determinedly squirting cream onto the plate to answer, Evie explained.
    â€œHave you not seen the film? They all carry these things called splurge guns – they’re like machine guns, but filled with cream instead of bullets. And they splurge each other instead of killing each other, because it’s all acted by kids.”
    I stood up, brandishing the plate on my palm. “Will? Make sure you get this.” I spun on my feet and hurled the pie at the poster. It splattered marvellously, right between the woman’s butt cheeks, dripping down