Saturday, 16 October 2010
ANSWER: Puberty. Catholicism. Cox Cable.
QUESTION: What things were forced on me.
Oh those were the days! Greasy hair. Squeaky voice. Zits on my back. Ugh! We had just moved from one school district to another when I started “the change.” Great. Thanks God. Perfect timing. My first month I’m like every other little kid. By November I’m starting to sound like Peter Brady and I have enough zits on my chest to play connect the dots with my Clearasil.
Yep. Good times. Good times.
One day in November my teacher was absent and the principal substituted. What? The freakin’ principal? He was tall. Intimidating. Had loud clackity clack shoes you could hear as he walked the hallways. Where was the doubty, chubby, insecure sub we had the month before? You know, the one with the I HEART my books and kitty shirt.
So we are reading aloud from a book. I don’t remember what book, but I can tell you it was not Judy Blume’s Are You There God It’s Me Margaret? That book I had stashed under my mattress with my Willie Aames poster, tub of Vaseline and one of mom’s tapered vanilla candles. You do the math.
Anyway, it came my turn to read and the principal pointed to me and said “Young lady, can you read the next paragraph?” Oh. My. Gawd. My world crumbled. My face turned 100 shades of red and the class erupted in fits of laughter. I was devastated. Traumatized .
Of course, after the reading exercise, we had to line up for lunch. Boy. Girl. Remember that crap? Well, leave it to Todd Melde (yep, I’m exposing you Mr. Melde Mean Man) to point his finger at me, call me That Girl and insisted I stand in the girl line.
I’ve recovered from this event. Really I have. Though I will never watch reruns of That Girl. Never wear shoes that go clackity clack. And if I ever see Todd Melde again, I will be sure to pour on the gay spray.
