Before I delve into my pretty teen years, my friend "Gertrude" asked if I'd put up a photo of her kid hula-hooping (and I am kissing my own self for putting Gertrude's name in quote marks like that, but it's not her real name, see, and I was kind of trying to let you know, but instead I became "one" of those irritating "people" who "quote" things that weren't said. Or "said.").
When I was in Michigan this weekend, Emma was hula-hooping as though she came out of the womb doing it, which, ow. And I think "Gertrude" asked me to put a photo up here because then she'd actually see my photo.
Seriously, have you ever watched Jimi Hendrix play guitar, and it looks like his hands are barely moving? Having watched 848303858 documentaries on him, I certainly have. That is what it looks like when Emma hula-hoops. She barely moves, yet she keeps that thing going like a champ. Then she gets exasperated that the rest of us can't do it. We're OLD, Emma. Old. There is no hula left in our hoops.
But speaking of my pretty teen years, which I know I haven't yet, y'all know I am obsessed with My Topography's blog. Today she talked about what she was like as a teenager, and then asked all of us what WE were like. So I told her I was gonna steal the idea for my blog.
When My Topography was a teen, she was deep and beautiful and went around reading Dostoevsky. I was shallow and frizzy and went around reading Real Romance magazines in my grandmother's bathroom.
This pretty much encapsulates me as a teen. Basically? If you were a parent? You did not want your kid anywhere near me. I was a terrible influence on everyone. My best friend in high school was a very, very nice person. Her poor unsuspecting parents used to go to their cottage all summer, and they'd always tell her, "Honey, we'd feel better if June stayed with you while we're gone."
Okay. Had she stayed by herself? She'd have listened to show tunes and maybe canned a few tomatoes. She was 78 when we were 15. But with me there? There were boys waiting on the corner for her parents to leave, with 85 cases of beer and maybe some illegal substances, as well. (Like 85 cases of beer is so legal when you're in high school.)
I always had a boyfriend, although the actual person playing the part of my boyfriend varied. All my relationships ended dramatically and terribly. Then two weeks later I'd be all up in someone else.
Other than my best friend, most of my friends were boys. So most nights (and I did go out as many nights as I could, although I was CONSTANTLY GROUNDED for some infraction or another) it was my sensible best friend, ridiculous me, boyfriend du jour, and three or four guys. I know that makes me sound like a slutuanian, but really most of my male friends really were just friends.
I got terrible grades in high school. Really atrocious. Nevertheless, I was on the yearbook staff and was an editor for our newspaper, and I was on student government and managed the boys' swim team. I really enjoyed being busy, a thing I detest now.
I was voted class clown in senior year. Oh, and I absolutely loved high school. Despite all the terrible and dramatic breakups and getting a failing grade in money management class–a thing Marvin brings up often, seeing as he pawed through my stuff once at my mother's and took my failing-grade-in-money-management report card HOME and put it on our fridge.
So, yeah. That sums me up. A few people who read this blog knew me in high school, including one of my 3294304727494 boyfriends, so if anyone has anything to add, feel free.
Okay, now tell me what you were like when you were a teen. Would you want to relive it? I'd like my 16-year-old butt back, but that's about it.