ONCE upon a time, I was really, really, ugly. I think I am pretty okay now, and even have occasional foxy days when the hair co-operates.
ANYWHO! A few years ago, I was a true Platonic model, that is to say, what was in my heart and my soul was reflected on my covering. I had my ratty lil punker boy neighbor shave my head up the back until all I had left was four square inches on the very top, which was dyed black and purple. I had the aforementioned bullring in my nose, and the requisite shredded camoflage/black clothing to match. I had a sneer and a bad attitude and the perpetual cigarette hanging off one side of my lip while I spit out of the other side. I could smoke a bong, set a Dumpster on fire, and slap you around all at the same time. I couldn’t stop listening to “Louder Than Bombs” and copulating with my greasy blue-haired boyfriend. We didn’t just live like Sid n Nancy, we WERE Sid n Nancy (less screeching and more passing out though).
One night, in the middle of my Year of Angst, some friends of mine dragged me to the mall to see our other friend, who had an exceedingly glamorous job at a pretzel hut called “Hot Sam’s”.
We shuffled up to the counter and began to loiter in the special, disaffected way that only Midwestern, small town teens can manage.
“Hey, man, what’s happenin.” (quick flash of the Devil sign.)
“What time are you fuckin off?”
Our meet-n-greet was interrupted by our friend’s manager, who came out to see what all of the angsty commotion was. She looked over the four or so of us very critically, obviously deciding if she should call mall security or tell us to shove off herself. She glared at us for a few moments more before zeroing in on me.
“Kenny,” she said to our captive friend behind the counter while staring at me and smirking, “is that… person… a boy or a girl?”
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My friends were twelve kinds of dicks to authority figures and our schoolmates, but we were always good to each other. No one laughed at me, but instead simultaneously turned on her.
“Fuck you, lady!”
“Show her yer tits, Asshole!”
“Yah! Show her your tits!”
“What a cunt, let’s get out of here.”
We left pretty quickly, after that, promising to pick up our friend at the appointed time. We got flak from lots of people in that conservative town, but that was probably the hardest hit yet. And I, being the oldest and meanest, was the unofficial ringleader, so morale was low when we left the mall.
For a moment back there I considered flashing her, maybe to let her know that what she said didn’t bother me. But it did. I had never been mistaken for a boy before; it was a little chink in my hardass armor I worked so hard to keep up all the time. It’s funny how little things like that can make you re-evaluate your life. I realized that my outside was reflecting my inside, and I didn’t like what other people saw.