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| Josh and Me - 1986 (I'll let you figure out which one I am) |
I was nine years old when it first happened—when I learned people
didn't always see me quite the same way I saw myself. It was the summer of 1986 and I was at Lakefair with
my family. I was devouring an elephant ear, wishing I was old enough to hang
out by the Gravitron where all the teenagers stood, defiantly pitying fools in their
Mr. Rags t-shirts and jean jackets. I was standing on the sidewalk, planning my ride itinerary, when I heard
a woman say to her daughter, “Watch out for that boy,” just as the girl bumped
into me. The two of them continued on and there I stood, with an
over-sized chunk of elephant ear hanging out of my mouth, wondering if I heard
her correctly.
Boy?! I thought.
I'm not a boy! Okay,
maybe my short hair and 3-inch rattail made it unclear that I’m a girl,
but surely my Michael Jackson t-shirt and black parachute pants… oh, wait…. oh,
yeah, okay… I see it.
And that, my friends, was the first time I heard someone call
me a boy. But it certainly wasn’t the last.
I played He-Man vs. Skeletor and
wished I could trade in the My Little Pony Dream Castle someone gave me for Castle
Grayskull. I rode bikes at the dirt hills and spent every recess playing two-hand
touch football with the boys. My hero was (and still is) Rocky Balboa and my
cousin Josh and I carefully choreographed our pre-boxing match workouts to “Eye
of the Tiger.” At times I felt confused because I had a crush on, yet wanted to
actually BE, Daniel Russo.
None of these things were even remotely abnormal to me. What
was strange, however, was sitting on the floor in a scratchy dress, playing with
dolls (unless the dolls were Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, and I was re-creating
what was, to my 9 year-old-self, the most profound scene that ever came out of
Hollywood). I didn't understand the appeal of painting fingernails and styling hair. I was completely content to live the rest of my life wrestling boys
and having butt-buster contests with them off the high dive.
I suppose I never fully outgrew my tomboy side; I still prefer
hanging out with the guys, and I’m about as socially awkward in a group of
women as Rocky was while he taped the Beast Aftershave commercial in Rocky II. Eventually though, people
stopped calling me a boy (well, Chad still does) and I grew into the delicate,
feminine lady you have come to know and love.
I could go on, but I need to go work on my motorcycle
and spit.
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