A Blast: Para Laura

Getting to the point of being able to self wax my stomach was not something as a little girl I foresaw myself counting as a victory. That same little girl years ago with two bright eyes and one curious razor, had dreams of WNBA stardom, and no stray hairs were gonna slow her down.

But today, with no recollection of the correlation between basketball athleticism and hairless skin, I've realized how far I must have fallen from the expectations of a younger me. What would she say if she knew I'd traded my nikes for $5 Rite Aid flip flops. My Gatorade for Coffee, or that the thing I look forward to the most when the weekend comes is the Sunday Newspaper?

I couldn't leave a dream dashed me in the memory dust. So I took a little trip back to 6th grade.

The school was smaller than I had remembered, toilets being the funniest if not most embarrassing reminder. It's amazing how much the smell of middle school doesn't even register on your annoyances scale, but required reading of 1 chapter of great fiction is unbearable.

The bell rang and the kids were released. Boys awkwardly dotting swears into conversation.

"Yeah I'm gonna get French fries, of course Fuck!"

The tween girl firing squad interrogating it's latest short haircut victim:

"Janet, if you don't have a crush on a boy, then you're a lesbian."
"What's a lesbian?"

And then there was a strange figure. Long brown hair done-up haphazardly in a scrunchie, dirty white knee socks connected with equally dirty athletic shorts. Far too many sweatbands covering arms that led to one round face with two dark lines dashed across it. One on top of the lip, and one on top of the eyes.

Oh this poor creature,
This poor me I used to be.

I had to warn her not to shave her eyebrow into two, she would just take off too much then color it in with permanent marker. I needed to tell her to just let go of the razor in general, they would be doing some amazing stuff in home hair removal soon, just be patient little guy.

As I was about to grab my little shoulder, a little hand grabbed my not-so little shoulder.

"Hey, what's that?"

The tardy bell rang and it was time for me to go home. I had sat with the popular girls for the whole recess! God I'm so Lucky Tiffany-Stefanie noticed my I-phone before I got caught talking to that Yeti loser.