BLONDE CONFESSIONS… sshhhhhhh…
My first kiss was actually with a girl. I was 5 years old and I was playing as Kristy Krinkle’s* house after school or kindergarten or something. We were playing under the bottom bunk bed with Barbies. I think they were exploring a cave and Barbie kissed Ken. She asked if I’d ever been kissed before and I said no. And then she planted a peck on me. Barbie and Ken eventually made it out of the cave and then we went outside to play badminton (I’m pretty sure at one point she also stole cigarettes from her mom’s purse that she apparently never smoked, but only pretended to smoke. This was also the first time I had kiwi fruit). You can understand why as soon as I realized there were gay people, I thought I was one of them, despite my heterosexual leanings (Umm… I wanted to be Princess Leia and have my own Han Solo; I also wanted to marry Zack Morris and/or Ferris Bueller). Part of me wondered if being kissed by a girl made you a lesbian. I kind of assumed that boys in junior high didn’t “go out” with me because they thought I was a lesbian (and by “go out” I mean hold hands at recess and tell everyone that you’re going out. Occasionally you might have your parents drop you off at the mall so you can see a PG-rated movie together. It also almost guaranteed a decent Valentine from someone). I feared they were right, like seriously afraid that was who I really was or what I was supposed to be. In looking back, I’m not ashamed of my first kiss being with a girl, but I’m ashamed at how afraid I was that I might be gay. Later on, I was kissed by a boy and felt “normal,” I guess.
What does this have to do with being blonde, you ask? A lot. As opposed to those complicated feelings of self-doubt and shame stirring around because of internal stuff, I am now facing feelings of self-doubt and wonderment because of external stuff. This blonde adventure is entirely self-inflicted. I have chosen to engage in this sociological experiment in which the primary goal is to gage how people perceive me. In a way, as a fearful child, I wanted to escape judgment, but now I am welcoming it. I welcome the judgments and criticisms of others because they help inform my current social project. Could you argue that I am hiding behind my blonde hair? You can argue anything you like, but this is a computer screen that can’t argue with you, so you should probably talk to someone about that.
I can’t help but look back on my strange life and marvel at its awkward magnificence. I drew a portrait of Andrew Jackson that was in the 6th grade art show. Why Andrew Jackson? I think I wrote a paper on him and decided to draw a picture. In high school, (name redacted) and I used to forge notes from my mom so we could skip 1st period and get McDonald’s breakfast together. We would smoke cigarettes together while eating sausage biscuits and listening to “Down” by 311, “The Next Episode,” by Dr. Dre, or maybe “Ms. Jackson” by Outkast. I performed in The Nutcracker seven times and have more Nutcracker-themed gifts than I know what to do with. I remember being absorbed in books like The Outsiders, The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, To Kill a Mockingbird, or The Perks of Being a Wallflower and I would forget where I was or what I was doing. I have pockets in my memory where I keep little time capsules like these. I am starting to collect memories of my blonde life and it’s only been two months. I can’t wait to find out where this blonde road leads. To more girl kisses? Only time will tell.
*not her real name
Today gets 4 Barbie Warhols:
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