Hello.
I feel like I’m back from a long summer, sitting at a wooden school desk with unfamiliar name tags on the surrounding tables, but I can’t read them because my blue coke bottle glasses are in my back pocket.
I’m sitting half on them with my ass positioned to not break them kinda like I’m about to deliver a massive fart. This seems a favorable choice rather than look like a huge nerd terd with glasses on, my first day of school, the year my mom put me back INTO my brothers grade, HALF way through the school year, in MIDDLE SCHOOL for the love of God.
I had straight A’s but she wasn’t ready for High School yet.
I digress.
I’m probably 13.
Perhaps being legally blind and blond worked for me, not being able to see the strange looks and finger pointing helped, although I did have perfect hearing unfortunately.
“Psst. PSST. Where’s your brother? Who are you?”
“Hey. Is he coming back? We have basketball fourth period.”
I told the truth, but as always, a little too loudly.
“He’s going to be much bigger for his grade now, so thank ME when he dunks like Jordan or at least gets off the bench!”
Like now, everyone back then laughed, and like today, I never have any idea why.
I was done with this stupid blog.
Thank God Lola dropped my Macbook, this depressing blog of personal private heart break runs like skid marks across the page, just as embarrassing as what one might discover washing dads stinky underwear.
It sucked, the last few years were painful, plus I have turned a new page, my mothering more alive and healed than ever, Kat and Lola stories are my favorites, so many too tell, plus a new job with colorful hilarious characters.
So, I began to itch to write.
But all the judging voices came to play (Not real ones so sorry to disappoint.)
Then a funny thing happened.
Kat went to fifth grade.
I became her life line for handling mean girls, and seriously, I should be a Middle School life coach.
God, I’ve been dying to write down my true feelings about those little bitches, the things Kat never hears me say.
Yes, I do act like an adult even though I DON’T WANT TO!
Narcissistic mean children with flat chests, cell phones, and clueless parents.
What mean and heinous creatures Middle School girls are!
It is survival 101 and Kat is wide eyed, unsure how to move in their territory.
She has always been highly sensitive and easily hurt, her big and bad attitude a direct front.
And so, I asked myself, how could I teach her to be authentic and real, a girl cool enough to roam the halls her own way with her own style, unaffected by the haters, focused on who she liked and what she thought rather than what others would say…..
If I couldn’t even face my own damn blog?
So for her, I hope to lead with courage, not let others define me or the voices defeat me.
I must be the thing I tell her to go be.
I must be just me, and if I eat alone, get whispered about, get directly bitch slapped or ignored, its gonna be okay.
I may even Twerk just to prove it.
Forget Your Perfect Offering 