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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

When I Was a Boy

Christmas parties in Venezuela always occurred at my paternal grandma's house. She liked hosting and having a billion people over. I remember one party in particular where slides were being shown on the wall. A photo of me as a toddler popped up.

"That's me when I was a boy!" I exclaimed.

(A Jewish boy, apparently.)

The room erupted in laughter.
They just didn't get it.
I was obviously a boy at one point.

As a kid, I was very boy and not very girl. One of the things I wanted to be able to do was... um... pee efficiently. I decided to give it a try.

One morning, at my maternal grandmother's home, we were enjoying arepas for breakfast when I suddenly had to "go." The bathroom door was right next to the kitchen table, and I slipped in. Once in the bathroom, I got the crazy idea that I was going to pee like a boy. Right then.

All I remembered was that boys faced the toilet not away from it. I commenced to undress from the waist down and sit on the toilet backwards. The bathroom door must not have properly latched because, not a second after I had situated myself, the door swung open exposing my experiment to a table-full of perplexed family members.

"What are you doing, Carolina??"

"I'm peeing like a boy."

The room erupted in laughter.
They just didn't get it.
I could do whatever a boy could do with enough practice.

Sigh... if only I could be a real boy...

I remember once waiting my turn at the plate during a kickball game in middle school. Game time was running out and one of the kids on the team decided he was not going to let the clock run down without him getting a turn. So, he jumped the line and went to the plate, skipping three other players. He was a black, muscly, cocky, sports dude. No one dared say anything. Except one brave (naive?) chick.

"Hey! It's not your turn!" I shouted.

"I don't care, I'm going."

"Get off the plate!" I yelled.

The next thing I knew, my face hurt. It was a nano-second before I realized he had punched me. It was half a nano-second before I lunged at him and wrestled him down. The school cop rushed over and pulled us apart.

The only other thing I remember about that incident was my dad talking to me at home about what the cop had told him. But Dad said it with a barely-hidden smile, and I knew he was proud that I wouldn't let anyone intimidate me. (Little did he know that would backfire on him when I hit my teenage years. But that's another story.)

Hmmm... which of these boys should I beat up next?

Fast-forward to marriage with David. The guy is at least a foot taller than me and about 100 pounds heavier (when I'm not pregnant anyway). But I soon learned that my playful spanks and shoves resulted in the largest teddy bear exclaiming, "Ouch!" and gingerly rubbing his new sore spot.

Kinda reminds me of this Friends episode:

video


I've since toned it down. Mostly.

So, yeah, don't mess with me. No one has ever said I hit like a girl.

5 comments:

Kat said...

Good for you sticking up for yourself! I definately don't agree wtih violence all the time, but if someone hits me or my kids, they had better watch out!

Kristen said...

You hit like a girl.

Adhis said...

I should clarify: no one who has ever been on the receiving end of these tiny fists of justice has ever said I hit like a girl.

Kristen said...

Are you threatening me?

Jackie said...

I'm completely terrified of you.