Thursday, November 8, 2012

Nonperks of being a sixth grade (wall)Flower.


(NTRK Day 5)

Sixth grade.

I had my braces off before everyone else so you would think I was a goddess compared to the sea of brace faces.


Pre-teen hormones hit me a lot differently than it did most girls. All I had to do was listen to Lisa Loeb's "Stay" and think about my mother, who was alive and healthy in the next room, and I would be a crying sack of ugly on the floor. I still to this day can't watch Forrest Gump without getting a lump in my throat because I associate it with missing my mother, who was never gone. Weird and needy. That's Mary!

If only I could have one of those boyfriend things that all the girls who wore yellow boots had. They seemed to make you not cry on the floor. They seemed to get you past your Disney movie love stage, that was still clinging so desperately to me and my stretch pants.

I decided to make a tall boy in Miss Beasley's math class mine. I put wet n wild red lipstick on my cheeks and instead of doing my math homework, I wrote him a love note. I remember the nervousness of handing him the note mixed with the sudden immediate regret of not doing my homework. What balls of steel I had! He hadn't ever even talked to or acknowledged me and I decide I'm going to remind him that the girl who sang "Oscar Meyer Wiener" in front of the whole school was one bad bitch with some heavy emotional love for him.

Math was my 2nd class followed by Science and Vocal Music. I made it through all those unscathed. This game plan was working. I wondered what would happen when I saw him in Math the next day.

Lunch was here and I was excited about stuffing my plain face with my usual lunch of french fries and a blue bell cookies and cream ice cream sandwich. I was probably looking around to make friends when I walked past his lunch table. He was smiling, a bit uncomfortably. I have always thought he was a nice guy and this wasn't his instigating. One of his friends yelled "THERE SHE IS!" and cleared his throat. That's when I noticed the paper in his hand.

"'My heart skips a beat every time you walk by. I love coming to math because I get to sit close to you. I love your K swiss. Let's be boyfriend.' HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT HER SHE HAS CRAYOLAS ON HER FACE, EVEN!"

This sounds like the most embarrassing moment of someones life, but it wasn't that awful. It was kind of a meh, I tried, that sucks. I'll go sing it out and jump on a trampoline.

I was still a child. Obviously, boys couldn't make me cry but I wanted to cry every day at school because I missed my mom. I probably wasn't real ready to get it on with one of those 12 year old fetus-faced boys, anyways.



(I know my friends that have known me forever hate it when I don't use names. I know for a fact the recipient of the note reads this blog sometimes, and I can't call him out. The one who read the note out loud in the lunchroom was Brooks. Who sucks)

6 comments:

  1. Boys started making me cry in 5th grade. I was an early bloomer in the game of psychotic boy crazy hormones.

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  2. Sorry late in deliverying serveral 6th grade pictures - all great. Please add one or two to this blog - it will brighten it up! Mom's orders!!!

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  3. Boys made me cry until I had 3 of them. Now they worship me. Karma finally paid off.

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