Boys bathroom

I loved 7th grade.  Middle school for me was like high school for most people: fun, carefree, and I had a close knit group of friends who shared a bond like no other.

One day at the cafeteria, when I was sitting next to my 3 closest friends, the urge to urinate hit me like I ton of bricks.  I had never been to the bathroom near the cafeteria, so I asked one of my friends where it was.

"You just walk out the main doors and take a right... it'll be on your left."

"Ok!" and off I went.  I was in a big hurry, so I didn't see the huge graphic icon of a boy stick figure right next to the door I walked thru. 

I was immediately confused.  Why were there sinks so low to the ground?  Where were the knobs for hot and cold?  Why the hell did it stink so bad?

And then I saw Brian.  He was at the furthest "sink" and turned his head, ever-so-slightly, towards me as my sneakers made an awful squeaking sound on the tile below me.  We froze in mutual horror as I took in what I saw: a platinum blonde haired boy of 12, holding himself near the sink, which I now had discovered was a urinal.  After what seemed like 30 minutes, but was in reality only a few seconds, I turned on my heel and ran out. 

I was so mortified that I didn't even remember that I needed to use the women's facilities... Meanwhile, Brian and I never acknowledged that this shameful observation on my part had been partaken.  No harm, no foul were our mutual tacit understandings.

Of course I did reveal my now hilarious story to my best friends, who promptly questioned me on what it looked like, did he say anything, did I say anything, were there regular toilets, etc.  I embellished as any middle school girl would.

First recollection of betrayal

In third grade, I had a best friend, we'll call her Ellen.  Ellen was my everything: we used to call each other on the phone (talking about what??), have sleep overs, take baths together (this was before gayness was an issue and before we were aware of our bodies in -that- way), and play on her super nintendo game console.

I felt like she really completed my heart, quite literally.

I remember her mom one day giving her a small cupcake for me, so that Ellen and I could both eat the sweets together.  She was such a nice lady... my mom wasn't one to be creative or bake anything, so it was always a treat when Ellen's mom would do this.  We'd sit in the cafeteria, and she'd eat hers a lot faster, partially because I was a slow eater and partially because it was so good that I relished it.

Somewhere along the line I became too uncool for her tastes.  Gone were the notes neatly folded in squares or triangles to pass to one another in the halls.  Gone were the giggly whispers of glee where we'd laugh over nothing.  Gone were the days of belting out "Rhythm of the Night" together.  Gone were those great diminutive cupcakes.  It was all gone because I'd been replaced.

Ellen had found a better best friend, a girl named Luann.  Ellen and Luann had more in common than Ellen and I did.  Their parents were the best of friends, they were both deeply religious and of the same faith, and they both had siblings they hated.  And of course, they dressed similarly, whereas my over-sized shirts and baggy jeans reserved me to the hapless category of chopped liver, in an age where fitting in is everything.  It was all very hard to accept, but accept it I did.

Fast forward to now and neither are great friends with one another, and I am acquaintances with both (thanks social networking!)  They both lead your typical white girl life: husband, kids, work part-time,... So in a way, the disintegration of our friendship was inevitable, considering Ellen's life is everything that mine is not (and I do not really aspire for that lifestyle either).

And that is my first recollection of betrayal.

Real or imaginary?

Have you ever had a memory that was so old you didn't know if it was real or fake? 

My parents have told countless people about the time I was a small child, and I ran into their room, screaming that I had been bitten by a wasp.  Now I sort of remember this, but is it because it happened or because it's been fed to me so many times that I've internalized it? 

The world may never know.  But I swear I remember that wasp being H-U-G-E!

Earliest memory

My earliest memory was from when I was about 3 or 4.  I had a bad dream wherein I was in the middle of a huge donut (or cheerio?) which was closing in on me.  I was terrified and I remember waking up scared as hell.  Don't remember much else. 

Not too thrilling, but trust me, it (this blog) gets better.