Self expression is like a noose around the neck.
If you are jacking off it's orgasmic.
If you are looking down at your feet you're dead.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The War in my Head
Saturday, May 16, 2009
In a Church
I got my first feel-up in 7th grade. There was a boy at my church who I'd been crushing on for awhile, along with the 2 or 3 boys I was crushing on at school. I started having crushes when I was about 5 and until 4 years ago, I have always had them. This boy was what I would call an "80% Crush", which means I really liked him and wanted to be near him 80% of the time. The other times he was either a dork or a jerk. He didn't talk to me much so I was very quiet around him. This was my "MO" around crushes, steal a glance here and there and never speak to them. One day I went on a day trip to Magic Mountain with the entire youth group. I steered clear of him most of the day but by the end of the day we had managed to be "lost" together. I don't t think I planned it, it just sort of worked out that way. We walked around and played the games and then rode home on the bus sitting next to each other.
When we got back to church he grabbed me by the hand and took me up the dark stairway to one of the classrooms. He didn't turn the light on. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap and stuck his hand roughly up my shirt and felt around. I didn't feel much, I was just sort of freaked out.
'Wasn't he supposed to kiss me when he did this?' I thought.
'Is it wrong to have your boobs felt up before you first real kiss?' I also thought.
At one point he said,
"You're big" (that part always makes me laugh)
I wasn't sure how to feel about that...
Before I knew it we left the room and went home with our respective rides. We didn't really talk to each other again. I avoided him completely at church and was very grateful he didn't go to my school.
I tried to forget about the incident as quickly as possible.
About a week later two of my school crushes walked up to me at nutrition break. I was very nervous because I never spoke to those boys, I just hung out at the same table as they did. One of them had been my #1 crush since 4th grade so my stomach started flipping when spoke to me.
He was my only "100% crush"!
He said, "Hey, we are in the same football league as that guy you go to church with. We heard all about you."
He smiled, "In a church???"
They walked away laughing.
My cheeks flushed and my stomachache intensified.
'Was this a good thing or a bad thing when boys knew that sort of thing about you in 7th grade?'
Goats Milk
Mom was taking us to the LA County Fair with her new boyfriend. I had a hard time thinking of him as her boyfriend. He was 18 years her senior and someone we used to have game night with, at his house, with his wife.
It was not very clear to me how grown up relationships worked. Mom had only had one boyfriend since the divorce and he had 5 daughters close to my age so that seemed appropriate. Her new boyfriend had grown up kids and grey hair. When he was appearing at our house every morning to have coffee with my Mom I assumed they were having bible study or something. When it became apparent that they were much more then study buddies I had no idea how to feel so I just numbed it out.
This outing to the fair was the first joint outing with us and the new guy. He had always been pretty fun to be around and he was pretty funny so I did not completely dread the trip but I was definitely in the "UNCOMFORTABLE" zone. The first part of the day was fun, we walked around and looked at the exhibits and ate cotton candy. Then it was time for lunch and we all ordered and sat outside to eat. At that point both my sister and I had not spent much of our allowance. We had saved allowance for quite some time so that we could have money to spend that day. After we were done eating he stood up and said,
"I bet you that if I drink this pint of goat's milk I will be able to jump higher then this building."
We started at him. I asked how much. He said all our money if we lost and he would double it if we won. The dollar signs formed in my eyes and I did not hesitate. I figured it was some sort of joke and that he was just finding a cute way to give us some extra cash, you know, try to impress us. I gave my money to my Mom to hold but my sister paused. My Mom said,
"Now think about what he is saying..."
It just didn't register for either of us.
Reluctantly my sister handed over her small wad of cash.
The next part happened so fast I thought I missed it. He drank the goats milk in one swig and took a very small hop then grabbed the money out of my Mom's hand. We stood there in silence. In that moment I knew a few things about the new guy.
1. He was an asshole
2. He knew it
3. He was going to marry my mother
After a pause my mom said,
"Girls, a building can't jump."
We looked at each other, disbelief crossing our faces, disappointment, anger. My sister took off, just walked away. She was gone so fast I didn't see her go or I like to think I would have followed her. From that moment on the day was very grey. We searched all over and then they gave up. I did not give up, my eyes were darting so quickly around the crowd it made my head spin. My stomach hurt, I was fighting back tears. Where had she gone? Why don't they report it somewhere? Would life ever be the same again?
Eventually we found her. We were quiet in the car on the way home.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Fairy God Mother
We had the pretty baby-sitter that night. She had thick black hair that waved and whooshed in all the right ways. She had long red nails. We were making crank calls, dumb ones like "do you have Prince Albert in a can?"
I don't remember how it happened. I was in the bathroom and I slipped and landed on my vagina. It hurt really bad and I cried. I sat there for awhile, completely embarrassed and ashamed. I couldn't tell her. Eventually she came and got me and asked me what was wrong. I had a hard time telling her but I managed somehow to communicate my injury. She looked at me with her angel face and said,
"It's like a cut on your hand but it's just down there."
I felt ok after that. It's like she took all the shame away.
I thought if I could be as pretty as she was when I grew up I would try my hardest to be just as nice.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Uniform
Girl Scouts is a big deal in 2nd grade. They let you wear the uniform to school on the day of meetings. You are part of something. You wear matching uniforms. My sister had been a Brownie already so we already had the dress and the little red tie and the hat. I was only lacking a sash, since a sash was personal, it was all about what you had accomplished as a Brownie. After watching the other Brownies come to school in their stiff uniforms on Thursday a few weeks in a row, I decided I wanted to be one of them. It made sense to me that all you had to do was show up next Thursday in the uniform and "POOF!" you were a Brownie. That morning, after carefully dressing in the uniform, I had second thoughts.
What if it didn't work that way?
What if you had to pay or sign a form or have an interview?
I hadn't done anything but put on a hand-me-down uniform.
My chest was tight, it was like all my joy was ripped out of me.
Mom took my picture.
At the last minute I wore my long coat over my uniform.
I kept my head low all day. During Language Arts I noticed the uniform was showing under my coat. I quickly pulled it down, hiding the self-incriminating evidence that I was just a poser and not a "real" Brownie.
I spent recess alone, hiding in the bathroom.
After school I walked to the cafeteria where they held the meetings, as if walking to my own execution.
The leaders where very nice, so were the other Brownies. Turns out it really was just that easy to be a Brownie.
"Just have your Mom sign this paperwork and bring it back next time."
After the meeting I went home and threw away the paperwork, folded up the hand-me-down uniform and never touched it again.
Scratching and Biting
My sister and I were home alone and bickering over something meaningless when the claws came out (literally). I always stayed low, where I could have an advantage while she pounded on me from above (she is 5'10", I am 5'2"). I reached up and grabbed the pocket of her white pants and pulled, tearing them down the leg. Immediately she stopped and stared at me horrified, then ran to her room and slammed the door. I stood there stunned. What had just happened?
Why do I feel so sad?
My mind suddenly recalled one of the countless shopping trips with my sister where she could not find 1 single pair of pants in the entire mall that were long enough. I remembered how often she wore those white pants.
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