" I'll never forget how the depression and loneliness felt good and bad at the same time. Still does."
~ Henry Rollins, The Portable Henry Rollins
~ Henry Rollins, The Portable Henry Rollins
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Testing, testing ...
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I’m pretty much a tomboy. I mean, I look like a girl and I clean up pretty well when the occasion may arise, but I’ve never been one to go for the frilly lacy crap. I’ve always been that way – in fact when I was in fifth grade I moved to a new school and the teacher thought I was a boy for the first three weeks of class. She actually chewed me out for being in the girls’ bathroom, yelling at me.
“What in the world are you doing in here?!?”
“Um, peeing?”
I thought she was going to have a coronary right then and there.
But yeah, never got into the girlie-stuff. I was absolutely disgusted when I got my period for the first time, and I cried when my mom said “welcome to womanhood”. I interpreted it to mean that I get to deal with messy pants, bloat, cramps and sore tits once a month for the next forty years. I haven’t been one to dream about the perfect wedding dress or what colors I’ll have for my bridesmaids; I didn’t have my 2.3 children’s names picked out by 8th grade. I’ve never wondered what kind of man I would marry – although I damn sure knew I wouldn’t settle for anyone who wasn’t as strong as I am.
Testing, testing ...
______________________________________________________________________
I’m pretty much a tomboy. I mean, I look like a girl and I clean up pretty well when the occasion may arise, but I’ve never been one to go for the frilly lacy crap. I’ve always been that way – in fact when I was in fifth grade I moved to a new school and the teacher thought I was a boy for the first three weeks of class. She actually chewed me out for being in the girls’ bathroom, yelling at me.
“What in the world are you doing in here?!?”
“Um, peeing?”
I thought she was going to have a coronary right then and there.
But yeah, never got into the girlie-stuff. I was absolutely disgusted when I got my period for the first time, and I cried when my mom said “welcome to womanhood”. I interpreted it to mean that I get to deal with messy pants, bloat, cramps and sore tits once a month for the next forty years. I haven’t been one to dream about the perfect wedding dress or what colors I’ll have for my bridesmaids; I didn’t have my 2.3 children’s names picked out by 8th grade. I’ve never wondered what kind of man I would marry – although I damn sure knew I wouldn’t settle for anyone who wasn’t as strong as I am.
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