I know you are going to be SO SHOCKED when you hear this. Lots of times, I don’t have any idea what is going to come out of my keyboard when I sit down to blog. I just sit down, open up this here window and start puking out words.
You have fallen out of your chair with incredulity, haven’t you? I can almost hear the collective thudding of asses on floors across the land.
I will give you a moment to collect yourself.
Here is my random thought for today. When I was in the 6th grade, I was (due to my ballerina chops) really flexible. I remember all of my friends saying that I should SO TOTALLY try out for cheerleading in 7th grade because of all the kicking and splitsing and jumping around I could do. Never mind that I could never be a cheerleader because: (a)I always had dance rehearsals immediately after school, often until 7 or 8 at night; and (b)I did not have mile high bangs held up by Aussie Scrunch Spray like anyone else who was cheerworthy, in fact I had no bangs at ALL. Despite this, I became sort of like a stupid pet tricks event for my classmates. Hey, my friends would say, Librarian Girl can touch her kneecap to her ear! While raising up on her other leg and standing on tiptoe! DO IT! And I would do it. Hey! She can kick her back leg behind her until her toe taps her on the top of her head! DO IT! And I would do it.
Does this sound pathetic? Yeah, I know. But it was adolescence. And this attention was like an all-you-can-eat buffet. I was belly up to the buffet and engorging myself, all too gladly.
In fact, not only was I a dancing pony for all of my friends, I started saying this phrase like I was hot shit: “I’m FLEXIBLE AND SEXABLE.”
In 6th grade. Like, 11 years old. I was walking around saying that I was flexible and sexable! I hadn’t even kissed a boy, or touched a boy, (besides one unfortunate hand-holding incident in 5th grade that only ended up in betrayal and heartbreak but that is a story for another time). The point is, I hadn’t even really figured out what sex was (beyond the mechanics, which I knew but found to be highly disgusting and had all kinds of skepticism about). Looking back, I wonder if any grown-ups ever were in earshot of me saying such a thing with my big mouth. What must they have thought? What would I think if I heard a little girl marching around saying such a thing?
The other day, at the library, I saw two little girls, about 8 years old, doing the Macarena dance together. When they did the hip-swivel part, they would say “sex bomb!” in unison. At first, I was horrified. Then, I realized they had no idea what they were saying. Third, I remembered my flexible and sexable days. And then I wasn’t so disturbed.
Unless you count the fact that the Macarena lives on in the hearts of the youth of today. Now THAT. Is disturbing.