Idiot Parade

Last week, I joined a group on facebook that is dedicated to the Sierra Vista Junior High School class of 2002. I still don’t know why. I hated middle school. I know most people say that, and they have every reason to; middle school is awkward and isolating and full of hormones and general yuckiness. It’s fair to hate those two years of your life. But I had an exceptionally rough go of it. I can’t count how many times my parents had to see me come home in tears. I was not cute by any stretch of the imagination. My short hair was very unflattering, I had braces with the rubber bands, you couldn’t see my forehead or my chin under all the pimples….it was bad, guys. Really bad. Not to mention that I had the personality of a cactus, and had no problem telling everyone exactly how I felt at all times. Needless to say, I was not well recieved.

I my eighth grade history class, there was a boy who we will call Shawn. Very large. Tall, yes, but also obese, with a deformed eye. He wasn’t very nice, but I tried to protect him anyway. I was of the opinion that the regets should stick together. One day, David asked me why I had not said the Pledge of Alligence. I told him that, as a Wiccan, I didn’t feel comfortable saying “under God”…the convictions of a thirteen-year-old, what can I say. Without any other questions, Shawn proclaimed, loudly, that I worshipped the devil. My teacher did nothing. And a group of boys who sat behind Shawn, and who usually chose him as their target, started in on me ruthlessly. I cried in class that day, and many others after. I was the Satanic lesbian for the rest of my tenure at Sierra Vista.

I mention this as a roundabout way of getting to my point: today, one of those boys contacted me. He said he felt bad about how he and his group treated others. Without prompting from me, he remembered the above incident, and how much it had hurt me. There wasn’t an apology, but after all this time, I don’t really care about that. I’m simply floored that he remembered. When you’re the one who is bullied, you assume that the people hurting you could not possibly care less, and they will live their lives without a second thought about the spirits they crushed. Today, I discovered that that isn’t true. It warmed my heart. It’s just an extra bit of reassurance that people do grow up to be better people, and that we aren’t static creatures…a person doesn’t have to be an asshole forever.

Thank you for the reminder.

There’s this thing I’ve always wanted to do, but I’ve always been too afraid to try. I’ve been working out with Carmen Electra’s fit-to-strip dvds, I absolutely love them, but I’ve shied away from the striptease workouts to focus on the muscle toning and hip hop. I’ve done this for the same reason that I would never look at myself in the mirror when I took pole dancing lessons: I don’t know how to feel sexy. I don’t. Truly. That slow cat craw makes me feel like an idiot. I blush when I toss my hair, and when I swing my leg up over a chair, I only notice cellulite and the way stockings make my thighs pucker. It’s like a little girl putting on her mother’s makeup and, when she goes to show off how pretty she is, is told that she’s done it all wrong. I’m not smoky or sultry or whatever the heck you have to be to be a sex symbol. I figure that if I try to be those things, it’ll be a pretty transparent act…laughable, in all probability. Not really my area.

Anyway. This thing I wanted to try…I always thought it would be super fun to do a lap dance/tease for a boyfriend. Fun if I were someone else, of course. But the Carmen Electra dvds have a pretty simple one, so, this morning, I ignored that I’m not the aforementioned adjectives, and learned the thing. Had my little costume, practiced a few times without the dvd before I sat J down.

It started out well. Very well, actually. But then I got nervous, because the tie wouldn’t come off right. I lost my count, got it back, and it was going well again. Near the end of the routine, I sat on J’s lap and leaned over him, creating a sleek perpendicular line, flicked my fedora off, and sat back up with all the grace that my ballet training has granted me.

That was what was supposed to happen, anyway.

In reality, I leaned back, used his shoulder for support instead of the chair, and lost my balance completely. I flailed, trying to correct myself, did a half somersault off my boyfriend, and landed in a very un-sexy heap. I wanted to laugh, and J started to giggle, but I just couldn’t, because it’s exactly what I thought would happen if I ever tried to be something other than plain old me. Big steaming pile of fail. But then, right before I lost it completely, my fantastic boyfriend yelled “No! No, don’t be upset, I’m so turned on!” So….yeah. I picked myself up, said “Choreography is overrated anyway” and finished what I started. Not the way I planned, but I went through with it.

Afterwards, Jason mentioned (without any prompting from yours truly) that it was a bit of a relief that I screwed it up. That strippers never do anything for him because they look too planned, and I looked like a real person. Klutzy dorky me. And, as it turns out, boys laugh when they’re bashful, which is apparently something that happens when girls they like take their clothes off. They get nervous and have little girl giggles too! Who knew? Next you’ll tell me something really outrageous, like boys have emotions or something.

No, I’m not Megan Fox or Jessica Alba or whatever. I am a dork. I run into the same shelves and doorjams every day. I don’t have flickable hair or a poochless stomach. But that’s okay. It works for me. As it turns out, it works for Jason too…I’ll just have to try for a better dismount, next time.

I apologize for my lack of updates, but some of you are probably aware that my life has been in a state of chaos for the last month or so. Quick recap:

Jason and I were evicted
Jason and I have moved elsewhere
I can’t find a job to save my life
I totaled my car, right before midterms
I have midterms
My mother was right and there is no such thing as a Money Tree (damn!)

So, yes. Massive insanity. His friends have been so helpful, and my parents have been more supportive than any parents should have to be, ever, so we’re making it through. And there are some really good times. The Superbowl was a blast. Yesterday was our first Valentine’s Day, my first with a s/o, and it was lovely. No presents, no big shows, just pizza and Star Wars and love. His birthday is coming up, then St Patricks Day, and our anniversary is the day after. There are many, many reasons to celebrate. Times are incredibly hard right now, but no harder than they’ve always been for someone else. It’s our turn to struggle for a while. And, if nothing else, I’d say it’s helped our relationship. We haven’t fought once since the eviction. Not that we fight a lot, it’s actually a pretty rare ocurrance, but to be this strapped for cash and not at each other’s throats…I think that says something. I know he works his butt off, and he knows that I’m doing my best to find anything that pays, along with finishing school. There’s a lot of love and support in this house, and for that, I’m grateful.