Aaaah....7th grade. Do you remember? I do. Let me lay it on the table for you, nice and sweet. Picture a 12-year-old, in yellow shorts and a matching yellow cotton shirt attending her orientation at Franklin Junior High in Yakima with her parents and annoying little sister in tow. Sitting on hard bleachers in the sweltering Eastern Washington August heat listening to the principle ramble on matters that will never come to fruition. Now picture said 12-year-old buckled over in pain so bad she thought she would die, or would rather. Looking and pleading to her mom to do something to stop the pain. She dismissed it as gas. So 30 excruciating minutes later she went to the bathroom to release assumed gas and found herself covered in...well..Aunt Flow. Bright yellow cotton outfit and Aunt Flow, bright and cheery and making herself known, to all the horrors of her peers. People can be so cruel. Thank God for little sisters. Said girl had to walk sandwiched between her mother and sister hoping to God that no one saw, when in reality, how could anyone not see? Humiliating.
First day of school: Short, stocky, not yet lost my baby fat, and let's face it, I never did; I sported a Pink mini skirt, over-sized pink and white-striped shirt, Esprit canvas short tops and dangly gold earrings (give me a break, it was the '80's) The 8th graders were monstrous and one big tall black football player looked down on me like I was a bug and said I looked like a watermelon. Shows how dumb he was. Watermelon is pink and green with black seeds. I looked nothing like that. So, my year follows suit with awkwardness and about a dozen crushes that made my friends and I swoon with desire. So there you have it.
Picture my daughter, same age. Awesome clothes, thanks to Grandma, and friends that she can't even keep track of. She's built like 16-year-old, tough, can hold her own and loves life. How did she ever come out of my womb? I have to admit, I love it. So I picked her up and she, very loudly, announces every aspect of her day, emphasizing Japanese class and all its splendor. Friends, friends and more friends and blah, blah, blah. I'm catatonic as we're eating burritos at Taco Del Mar, no longer processing any information her enthusiasm is trying to get into my brain that is now mush. You parents know what I'm talking about.
We arrive home, she hops on the computer and begins World of War Craft, thanks to my ex. He bought it for her. She is very balanced and plays things I know nothing of nor comprehend. A fantasy world of beasts and the like and she digs it. The last game I played was Pac Man in 1984.
So there I sit between watching Dirty Jobs on Discovery watching the host put a swab up the butt of a goose and making my pug sit for a taste of toilet paper (he loves to eat paper) Don't worry, it's once in a while that he gets paper the size of a quarter. It makes him happy. All the while in the background listening to my daughter talk on the phone, listen to her game, play her game and relay messages back and forth. Talented. What the hell is a blood elf?
It's a scary world.
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