I ran into myself yesterday at the Craft Store. It was my 8-year old self. I was there with my cousin, who, in this instance was named Sierra, but in my past was named Sunny/Jenni/Kimber or Jessie. Sierra and mini-me were sitting, very maturely, at the pattern table, looking for fancy dresses (in the Disney Princess section of the book). Her hair was straightened and she was wearing pink tinted lip gloss. I first recognized myself in her when mini-me started pestering her cousin. "Sierra, Sierra, do you have my iPod? Do you have my iPod? I think I left my cellphone in the car". Then mini me started looking around to make sure that those around me were duly impressed at her tech-saaviness. Sierra, obviously in on the plan orchestrated previously by the two of them, pulled out an iPod shuffle and plugged it into her ears.
Mini me continued looking through dress patterns and then announced, "Sierra, can you believe I am going to turn 14 this year?" Sierra is oblivious and listening to her iPod. "Sierra, can you believe I am going to turn 14! Sierra, Sierra, can you believe that I am going to turn 14 this year? Sierra, I'm going to turn 14 this year, can you believe it? I can't believe I'm going to turn 14 this year, can you Sierra?" Finally Sierra looked up, and mini-me repeated it just one last time "Sierra, can you believe that I am going to turn 14 this year?" Sierra forgot this trick, apparently. "No you aren't. You are turning 9." "No, maybe I'm just turning 10. . . " Mini me was devastated. She had tried so hard to convince me and the other homemakers sitting quietly at the pattern table that she was grown up. Now she was exposed. She quickly turned the page in her pattern book and pointed out a dress that was especially pretty (Sleeping Beauty was the model) and I complimented her on her taste. I've been there. I know how urgent the need is to pretend that you are an "olda " girl, who is at least five years older than you really are.
I recall a time when I went to a park with either Sunny or Jessie and we decided to tell everyone that we were George Bush's granddaughters. We must have been about 8. We were SO MEAN to all the other girls because we philosophized that everywhere you go, you must have an natural enemy. So we were determined to find ours. Not a friend everywhere you go, but an enemy. Yeah, we were those girls. Pretending that we were older, wearing tinted lip gloss, and sentencing other kids to life in prison because our Grandpa Bush would take care of them, if they weren't careful.
Anyone else live this kind of twisted childhood?
4 comments:
I totally had this twisted childhood. Naturally, this is why we are friends now. Miss you!
Oh mine was twisted. The problem with me is I didn't know when to stop. I post the climatic end to my lying later today. I love that you were Bushies' granddaughter! I can totally see you doing that. :-)
I remember taunting the neighbor kids on the other side of the Sermons fence(Sermons were my best friends). We would be in their big playhouse overlooking the yards, and would call the neighbor kid "Benjamin Baby" instead of Bailey...we were cruel. I will have to say they did come back with a "Robyn Peed-on-her-son" to stick it to me for the baby remark. So it was war. We would also play dress up and pretend we were pioneers in their old camper(next to the playhouse). We were dorks :)
I'm glad you were so out of this world, it made me realize immediately what 'normal' was, so I shot for that. I like to believe (probably falsely) that it kept me from embarrassment.
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