Just gimme my diploma.

Graduation ceremony was jading (is that a word?). As a custom, girls must wear the traditional garments and hairdo, which requires at least two hours of preparation. After all the fuss, we endure at least an hour of traffic as hundreds of cars queue up, filled with excited graduates and proud parents and relatives doing last minute make-up checks with pocket mirrors. We cover the beautiful meticulous garments with tacky overpriced graduation robes and step out into the blaring sun. We gingerly push the pentagonal graduation hat on to our painfully perfect hairdo. We jostle and jumble in our high heels with the crowd as we enter the building to endure a ceremony in which our names are not even mentioned because we failed to become cum laudes. And when the ceremony is finally over we jostle and jumble to get out, back to the blaring sun outside, sweat staining our beautiful hidden dresses, make-up running and fake-eyelash-glue melting.
And then we take pictures.