Sooo Much To Say!

Sixth grade was the first year of "middle school," which is what St. Margaret's called Jr. High.  I didn't realize how lame I sounded saying "Lower School," "Middle School" and "Upper School" until I started talking to normal people that went to grade school, junior high and high school.  Anyway, I was 11 years old in 6th grade, and enjoying my last gasp of Lolita-aged hottness before puberty had it's cruel, cruel way with me.  In this installment of my Very Secret Diary, I must decide between two equally "nice & cool" prospective "b-friends," struggle with the jealousy I have for a friend with "an awesome popular boyfriend," and fret for the health of yet another friend who may be "anerexic or balemic (sic) I can't remember which."  But none of that really matters because "I can't wait 'til summer!  Weeee!"

Boyfriends, bulemia, whatever!!  I love passing notes and soccer is so cool!

 
Post script - the very next day one of my amorous suitors "un-asked me out" because he "didn't feel the same way anymore."  So I said yes to the other one.

I Hate Patterened Underwhere

Sluts!  Smokers!  No one is safe from my youthful self-righteousness.  This time the target of concern is our beloved housekeeper Peggy, who smoked cigarettes, which I had been taught were VERY BAD and a GATEWAY DRUG and STINKY etc etc.  (We actually had an all school assembly one time with Christopher Nance, who was the local weather guy (double parenthetical - omg I just googled him and found out he was fired in 2002 for "menacing and profane off-air behavior"  !!!???  wtf that is so crazy), anyway he came and spoke to us in the gym and I vividly remember he said he would rather "lick a rat than kiss a smoker."  This image stuck with me forever and when I finally kissed a smoker as a young adult I thought "this is really not so bad and actually kind of hot" so yeah, drug deterrent fail SMES.)

Stay tuned for next time, when you'll learn what kind of "underwhere" I preferred as a 9 year old.

Precious Moments Diary Cover

Nuzzling with geese is always a precious moment.  Other precious moments include being a naked toddler cherub riding shooting stars, holding hands with other white children, scattering bird feed, obeying your parents, following your dreams, and having a gigantic head.

Early slut shaming, TV crushes, and other things that are "so cool"

Ah yes, the "imodest brat" on my AYSO team.  Her name was Shayla and she wore a hot pink leopard print sorts bra to every practice, which was bananas to me because I didn't even wear a jog bra at age 9. 

Then of course we get into my continued run down of which boys I think are cute - in this edition, an older boy is "sorta cute" but not as cute as "the first king in the Christmas Pagent (sic)."  Doogie Houser gets a shout out (an early flash of my total lack of gaydar), and of course Zach Morris from Saved by the Bell, who I call "Mark Paul." 

But for me it all comes back to "I love passing notes and soccer is so cool."  That so aptly sums up my state of mind as a fourth grader in south OC in 1993.  At that point, I had no doubt that I would grow up to be beautiful and smart and marry a rich man and have lots of children.  This was before I knew I was at least partially on Doogie Houser's team.

And for what it's worth, I still like passing notes and still think soccer is cool.  Non ironically.  I really love soccer.

Fourth Grade, Precious Moments Diary

Early drunken ramblings

Big Ones: a Boobifesto, age 11

It's sad that I struggle with a lot of the same shit now.  I want the affirmation of the patriarchy but resent its power of me.

Flash Forward: 6th Grade

This is when I start to think that I have some really Big Ideas and am very Down To Earth and Cool.  Self-awareness was not my strong point.